


Harry Malfoy's Family

by Madriddler



Series: Harry Malfoy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Antagonistic Mr. Malfoy, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Boys Kissing, Boys learning their sexuality, Harry Potter is a Malfoy, Harry is adopted by the Malfoys, Harry struggling with his identity, Love Triangles, M/M, Sequel, The Malfoys are strict parents, Voldemort is Harry's Grandfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: After dealing with the Stone, Harry just wanted to relax with his brother Draco. But family feuds prevents him as Harry Potter-Malfoy is thrust into a situation that brings him close to a certain black Diary. Now entering his second year, little Harry Malfoy will have to face an outrageously stuck-up new teacher, a ghost in a girl's bathroom, and his lingering doubts and confusion on who he really is. Will the Grandson of Lord Voldemort take up his mantle as Heir of Slytherin? Or will he follow his father's path and throw it all away?





	1. Summertime Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you missed it, this is a SEQUEL to my story Harry Malfoy's Trials. You should probably read that one first before this one or else nothing will make sense. Well, maybe it'll make sense but that story will paint a fuller picture. Anyway, have a good day/night!

**Harry Malfoy’s Family**

**Chapter 1**

**Summertime Sadness**

It climaxed with a letter, but before that tensions between Harry Potter-Malfoy and his adoptive father Lucius Malfoy ran high. At the beginning of the summer, Harry’s godfather Sirius Black dropped Harry and his adoptive brother Draco back home at Malfoy Manor after a rather large welcome home feast at his house. Harry expected an apology, or even a greeting from Mr. Malfoy, but none came. The best he got was “Hello, your room has been cleaned for you.” Even Mrs. Malfoy was a bit colder to Harry than normal. She still was affectionate to him, but Harry could feel a slight annoyance from her, especially when, on the first night back home at the manor after spending a night with Sirius, Harry walked up to Mr. Malfoy and the first words out of his mouth were, “Where is my apology?”

Mrs. Malfoy sighed and answered for Mr. Malfoy, who just gave Harry a sharp, disappointed look. “Harry, you are still obsessing over your father’s actions? We have a reason for everything we do sweetie, and though we cannot explain it to you yet, you will understand in time. Now like your father said, your room is ready. Why don’t you go and make sure the house-elves pack everything where it is supposed to and come back for dinner?”

During that dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy asked Draco and Harry how their year at Hogwarts went. “Since we haven’t seen you since September,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled, though Harry felt a piercing guilt in his throat.

“Well… Gryffindor won the House Cup,” Draco said, looking at Harry with a small smile. Earlier that day they both decided to tell the truth of what happened, but too easy into it.

“Oh, a pity,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Last I heard from Severus, Slytherin was on a six year winning streak.”

“They’re not anymore,” Harry said. “We won.”

“Hmm… what else happened?” Mr. Malfoy asked, turning to Draco. Harry felt a small bubble of anger pop inside him.

“The usual,” Draco shrugged. “We had classes, we passed all of our exams, I’ve beaten Harry in Potions—”

“By _five_ points!”

“And other than that… some things happened,” Draco said, looking down at his plate.

“What things?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“We uhh… well…” Draco looked up at Harry for help.

Harry sighed and said in one breath, “I fought a troll that Professor Quirrell led into the girl’s bathroom; we’ve gotten past a three-headed dog, Devil’s Snare, a room with enchanted magical keys; a deadly game of chess, and a logic thing by Snape all to get the Philosopher’s Stone before my grandfather.”

A weird silence fell upon them. Harry and Draco looked at each other worryingly as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy processed what Harry just said. Nobody moved, Mrs. Malfoy had a quizzical look on her face as Mr. Malfoy just looked at both boys neutrally.

“Let me see if I fully understand you, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. “You have not only broke several rules risking your life against dangerous, disgusting creatures… but you decided to drag your brother along with it?”

“I—”

“Harry Potter-Malfoy, I am fully disappointed in you. Getting yourself sorted into Gryffindor as a way of rebellion is bad enough, but you had to force your brother into dangerous situations, making him break almost every single rule in Hogwarts and might have ended up dead!” Mr. Malfoy said furiously. “I hope you are happy with yourself.”

“Lucius!”

“NO!” Harry screamed. “It wasn’t like that at all! Draco went _willingly_!”

“I did!” Draco agreed.

“Draco, don’t interrupt,” Mr. Malfoy snapped. He turned back to Harry. “You are grounded. I am taking away your wand, your broomstick that you shouldn’t really have in the first place and all of your toys. You are to remain in your room and come out only for meals, do you understand?”

Harry stared at Mr. Malfoy, shocked. “That’s not fair! I did nothing wrong—I saved us! If my grandfather got the Stone, if we didn’t go to stop him—”

“Then Draco wouldn’t be in any trouble,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Lucius…” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Perhaps you are being too strict.”

“Too strict? He put our boy in danger,” Mr. Malfoy said, turning to Mrs. Malfoy. “This is the least that I could do to the boy!”

“We will talk about this later,” Mrs. Malfoy said. There was a strange silence between her and Mr. Malfoy. Harry didn’t look at either of them, instead just turning to glare at his food as he angrily speared it with his fork.

The rest of the dinner was in an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Malfoy followed Harry into his room and Harry watched in angry horror as, with several flicks with his wand, Harry’s possessions disappeared, leaving the room bare except for his bed, bookcase filled with schoolbooks, and a desk. “It will stay like this until after your birthday,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Do not endanger my son again.”

Harry just glared at him, “I’m not your son?” he muttered under his breath.

“Yes you are,” Mr. Malfoy said, “However, now I am disappointed in the fact.” He emphasized his disappointment by slamming the door behind him, the lock clicking on it’s own. Harry screamed and ran towards the door, slamming his fists on it before sinking to the floor, crying.

He stopped when he heard a knock on the door. “Harry?” It was Draco.

“Draco!” Harry said.

“Harry are you okay?” Draco asked.

“Stupid question,” Harry grumbled.

“Sorry…I can’t get in! Is the door locked on your side?” Draco asked as he jiggled the doorknob.

Harry nodded, “Father locked it, I don’t think he wants me leaving,” Harry frowned.

“Wants you to—that’s insane!” Draco said. “Do you have your wand? How about the Cloak?”

“I don’t—he took my wand,” Harry frowned. “Wait, I’ll look.” He moved away from the door and quickly ran around his room. He found his trunk in his closet and smiled when, at the bottom of the trunk under a pile of dirty laundry, was the Invisibility Cloak. He took it and ran back to Draco. “I have the cloak!” he cheered.

“Great, one second,” Draco said. “Wait… what was that spell again?” he muttered.

“Which one?” Harry asked.

“The unlocking one—the one Grang—Hermione used on that dog’s door,” Draco said.

“ _Alohomora!_ ” Harry said.

“ _Alohomora!_ ” Draco repeated. There was a small click and Harry stepped back as the door opened, revealing Draco’s smiling, victorious face. “It worked!” he cheered.

“Great!” study smiled. “Where would Father hide my things?”

“In his office—he and Mother are in the back now, talking,” Draco said.

“Great, I’ll be a minute,” Harry said, disappearing under the Cloak. He immediately ran out of his room and down the hallway. He made his way to the foyer and stopped. He could hear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy talking downstairs, their voices raised. Harry frowned as he did his best to block their voices out as he slightly, slowly, crawled down the stairs; making sure to avoid making any sounds as he moved down the carpeted stairway. House-elves were scurrying about, cleaning and dusting the old portraits, their inhabitants snoozing away in their frames. Harry did his best to avoid all of them.

When he reached the bottom stair, he looked around than walked across the foyer to a set of double-doors that he barely went through. It was empty, a single carpet leading down the center of the hallway that Harry kept on. There was a door at the end of the hallway, and Harry pushed it slowly and walked into Mr. Malfoy’s study.

It was a nicely sized room. The main focus was a huge desk made of a dark wood sitting in the center, on top of which was several neat stacks of papers. Bookcases filled the room’s walls, all stuffed with books with titles too long and too complicated for Harry to even try to pronounce. There was a trunk on the floor in the corner, still opened, and filled with Harry’s possessions. He made his way to the desk and looked over it. On it was several angry looking letters from Mr. Malfoy’s associates, as well as several from Mr. Malfoy himself. Harry recognized most of the letters and bent forward, mouthing to himself as he read snippets of Mr. Malfoy’s letter.

_“The act is a disgusting thing. Why would filthy muggles need protection? The Muggle Protection Act is half-brained lunacy, just as that Arthur Weasley. No double he wrote half of the mockery. To think his children goes to the same school as my son, it is a tragedy… No matter, I have a plan for the Weasleys.”_

Harry felt a sense of hot anger boiling up again as he looked at the letter. Lifting it up to crumble it, he noticed something very odd. It was a small, old black-leathered book, it’s pages yellowed. Curious, Harry picked up the book and opened it, expecting to see something about Dark Arts or politics, but instead finding nothing. He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Harry flipped through the book’s pages, seeing that they were all empty. “What’s the point of this?” he muttered to himself. Still, it was laying on Mr. Malfoy’s desk. Feeling very petty, and thinking that it has something to do with Mr. Weasley, Harry pocketed the book and quickly made his way to the trunk. His wand was on the bottom, so it was easy to cover up the empty space after he took it.

He stood up and quickly left the office, making sure that everything else was in the same place before he closed the door behind him. He returned to the foyer just as Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy walked in. He stopped, remembering that he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, and listened as Mr. Malfoy said, “Fine, he will be grounded for only two weeks, though he deserves more. You can see it yourself, Narcissa, his father’s idiocy is clearly in him.”

“But he is still our son,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “If you remind him of that every so often, he wouldn’t be so rebellious.”

“A Malfoy in Gryffindor… I still cannot believe it,” Mr. Malfoy said. “We have been in Slytherin House for generations, only to have him—his father’s influence on him is clearly superior to ours.”

“Would you rather it be his grandfather?” Mrs. Malfoy asked, frowning. “I mean, he would have our values but…”

“Our Lord was a… fearful man, but he knew and commanded respect,” Mr. Malfoy said. “That is what Harry needs to do. Learn about respect. To blame me for—”

“Well, the howler was a little excessive,” Mrs. Malfoy frowned. “But I’m sure that he forgave you months ago, and is just ready to apologize for his behavior. Which I am really looking forward to for this strife between you two is headache-inducing.”

“I am sorry that Harry’s behavior is physically affecting you, Narcissa,” Mr. Malfoy frowned, sounding sincere. Harry couldn’t help but glare at him. His behavior? His! Harry wasn’t the one who sent a Howler just for getting sorted into the wrong house! He wasn’t the one who constantly spanked him when he did wrong! He wasn’t—

“Perhaps I will get him something that he would love,” Mr. Malfoy said. “That should cool Harry down, and hopefully make him forget about his stupid little angers.”

“Maybe that will work… but I doubt our son can be bribed so easily,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Don’t you worry about it, my dear, I will take care of Harry’s and my little squabble,” Mr. Malfoy chuckled. “But in the meantime, there is a letter to Yaxley that I need to finish. Did you hear about what the Ministry is planning to do? Raids! There is talk of the Ministry raiding several homes to search for Dark Artifacts.”

“Oh dear… that would be horrible,” Mrs. Malfoy frowned. “I just found my great-great-Aunt’s cursed necklace just lying in a shop!”

Mr. Malfoy chuckled. “A shop? That was fortunate.” He placed his arm around Mrs. Malfoy’s waist and they started walking towards the hallway Harry just leaved. Harry hugged the wall and slowly moved away.

“It was, Delilah and I were on an outing and found a jewelry shop down at Paris…” Mrs. Malfoy’s voice died out as the double doors closed behind them. Harry stayed where he was for a couple of minutes before running back to the staircase. His feet lead him up the stairs, jumping at them two at a time, and turning left into his and Draco’s hallway. Draco was still waiting by his open door and Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and smiled, “I got it!” he said.

Draco jumped slightly and smiled. “Great! Where are Mother and Father?”

“They’re going to Father’s study,” Harry said with a hint of anger. Draco just nodded and said, “I’ll take care of Hedwig, alright? If there’s any letters you want to send just put the cloak on and come to my room.”

“Alright, thank you Draco,” Harry said. He walked in and closed the door behind him. He heard Draco’s voice calling out, “Harry! What’s the locking spell again?”

“Umm… _Colloportus_ ,” Harry said.

“ _Colloportus!_ ” Draco cried out loud and Harry heard his door lock itself. “Good night Harry!”

“Good night Draco! Thank you!” Harry called through the door. He listened as Draco walked away from his room. He turned and made his way to his desk and pulled out the small black book. “Okay… what are you?” Harry asked.

The book didn’t respond, naturally, so Harry took the book again and opened the cover. There was something written there, looking very faded. _“T.M. Riddle.”_

“A diary?” Harry asked, flipping through the blank pages again. “Why would Father have a diary? Did it even work?” He reached for a bottle of ink and quill. He dipped the quill in the ink and hovered it over the page, taking a moment to think what he should even write about.

He seemed to hesitate a little too long as a small blot of ink fell from his quill onto the page. Harry watched as it fell, marking the clean yellow page. Then, before he could reach his wand to clean up the mess, Harry watched as the ink disappeared, as if it was just absorbed by the page, leaving it clean. Harry’s eyes widened and he quickly flipped the pages to see if there was any residue, but there wasn’t. All the pages were as clean and as yellow as they were when Harry found it. “Woah…” Harry said. “It must be like a secret-keeper or something!”

He decided to try it out, and quickly wrote down, _“My name is Harry Potter-Malfoy and I hate my grandfather!”_

He watched in amazement as the words began to sink into the page again. He was about to write more when the most surprising thing happened: More words appeared, but they weren’t Harry’s, or even in his handwriting.

 _“Hello Harry Potter-Malfoy, why do you hate your grandfather?”_ the diary seemed to be asking him. Harry gasped. The diary can speak back! Deciding it would be rude to not answer the diary’s question, Harry dipped his quill back into the bottle of ink and wrote back.

_“My grandfather is complicated. He is Lord Voldemort, but he never knew me or my dad even existed. I met him for the first time this year at Hogwarts. All I wanted to know was why he tried to kill my dad and… his answer just made me angrier than I was before!”_

His words seeped into the pages of the diary before it responded. _“Lord Voldemort is your grandfather? Interesting… Why did his answer make you angry Harry?”_

 _“Because… because he told me that he only had my dad to kill him! That he didn’t care and—with everything that happened with my adopted father, it’s too much,”_ Harry wrote back. He paused, frowned, then added, _“You know about Voldemort?”_

His question disappeared into the page, but no response came, as if the diary was processing how to answer Harry’s question. It took a minute, then words started to appear. _“Of course I do, Harry. Lord Voldemort was just as known when I went to Hogwarts fifty years ago. I am a memory of my former self. My name is Tom Riddle, it is a pleasure to meet you, Harry. It is horrible that Lord Voldemort would consider such a thing. But tell me, how did you get my diary?”_

For some reason Harry felt an odd piece with the diary, as if he found himself a secret friend who he could tell all of his own secrets and worries, and have confidence that Tom wouldn’t tell anyone. He dipped his quill in the ink bottle again and wrote, _“You—it was in my father, adopted father’s study. He took my wand away even though I did NOTHING wrong and I sneaked to go get it. I saw your diary on his desk and decided to just take it.”_

His words disappeared once again, and Harry waited for Tom’s response, and was not disappointed.

 _“Taking away your wand? What a horrible thing to do. A wizard should always carry his wand Harry, always. Nobody has any rights to take it away, adopted father or biological. I know that better than anyone. Harry, would you please tell me fully what makes you so angry?”_ the diary asked.

 _“Okay, I’ll try, give me a minute,”_ Harry wrote. He kept his quill in the ink bottle for a moment to collect his thoughts. _“I think it actually started with the beginning of the year, really. My adoptive Father and Mother, my brother and really everyone thought that I would be in Slytherin because the Malfoy family has been in Slytherin for generations, and since I’m a Malfoy, fa—my adoptive father told me that I have a responsibility to be in Slytherin. But instead I was sorted into Gryffindor like my real dad. The next day my adoptive father sent a Howler which yelled at me in front of the entire school. It was so humiliating that I just ran outside before anyone could start laughing. Draco, my brother, had to run after me and even though afterwards my Godfather and mother—adoptive mother—sent me nice letters that reassured me, my adoptive father never apologized. And still hasn’t! It’s been an entire school year and he had never apologize! He just carried on like normal as if he did nothing wrong—just went on ordering me and Draco around! He didn’t mail me for months and just before Christmas break he send a letter with just instructions! On how we have to start thinking about girls—I don’t like girls! Not the way he is telling us to! And neither does Draco! So we just spent Christmas at Hogwarts with the Weasleys and it was the best! It was so relaxing just not being with my adoptive father and listening to his orders!_

_“During the year we’ve found out that my grandfather was still alive, and he was after something called the Philosopher’s Stone. It’s a stone that you can use to make an Elixir of Life, you can become immortal with it! Grandfather was going to use it to gain his body back, he was on the back of our Defense Against the Dark Art’s teacher’s head. Myself, my brother Draco, and our friends Ron and Hermione went to stop him. They all went willingly to help me, and I wouldn’t be able to do it without them. It was dangerous, really dangerous, but we had to get the stone before my grandfather could. We’ve succeeded in saving the stone, and the school and my godfather Sirius were very thankful for what we did, but my adoptive father hated it. He yelled at me tonight, saying it’s my fault, that I dragged Draco to danger—even when Draco argued back!_

_“He always blames me, punishes me more heavily than Draco. He grounded me, taking away my wand, my broom, everything I owned—even my stuffed basilisk! All he left were my school books, quills, and ink. It’s like he locked me away, I’m not even allowed to have my pet owl Hedwig in here. It’s not fair Tom! Why does he treat me so badly when Draco doesn’t even get a scratch?”_

Harry’s words at the end were rushed, the quill pressing down too hard but still they sunk into the diary all the same. Harry fumed to himself as he waited for the dairy to reply, knowing that it will take a while for it, _him?_ , to respond. Words began to appear again a minute later.

_“I see… I believe that you are in the right, Harry, Mr. Malfoy has no right of punishing you like he currently is. However, I must ask, how is your relationship with Draco Malfoy? You seem to be putting a barrier between your adoptive parents, but you openly call Draco your brother.”_

Harry wrote immediately, _“I love him! I’ve known Draco since we were both three, we grew up together! He really is the best brother I could ask for.”_

_“I see, thank you for satisfying my curiosity. Now, it does seem that Mr. Malfoy is actively, or maybe subconsciously, be distancing himself from you once he saw that you will not be exactly as he envisioned you to grow into. Tell me, was your father like that? How about your mother?”_

Harry frowned. He hesitated before writing, _“I don’t know much about my dad and mum, only what others told me. They were friends who Dumbledore forced together through love potions. My dad was really in love with my Godfather Sirius Black. They were going to marry… my dad created and took a pregnancy potion and spell just so that they both could have me. My dad was a Parselmouth like me, and he was obsessed about learning about Voldemort and the Dark Arts, but only to figure out why Voldemort left him. Like I said before, my grandfather killed my dad before ever knowing the truth. My mum on the other hand… she was a muggleborn, very nice according to Sirius and his friend Remus (they’re living together, you see Sirius got a house and—I’ll tell you that another time). From what pictures I could find, and from what I could see in the Mirror of Erised, I look exactly like my father except I have my mother’s eyes.”_

_“I see… thank you for sharing this with me Harry. It seems that we have a lot in common, little one. I lived in an orphanage during my childhood. It was bleak, horrible. I had no friends, no idea who my family was. All I had was my father’s name for my own and grandfather’s name for my middle. I was a very lonely child.”_

_“But you’re not lonely, now are you? I mean, you’re a diary but now you have me,”_ Harry wrote.

_“Correct… and who knows, maybe I’ll show you some of my own memories later on, if you would like that?”_

_“Yes!”_ Harry wrote quickly.

_“Good. But for now, since you tell me that you are a Hogwarts student, you must have summer assignments correct? You should finish them, that way you have more time for me and your precious Draco.”_

_“But I don’t want to stop writing to you.”_

_“Do your work. I will always be here.”_

Harry grumbled to himself but did as he was told. Muttering foul words, but feeling lightly relieved from telling the diary his problems, Harry took his schoolbooks off of the bookshelf, returned them to the desk and, with annoyance at he can’t do anything else, started his summer homework.

 

Harry snuck out of his room regularly during the next two weeks. The only reason Harry would stay in his room was to write in the diary, which he did every day. The more he wrote, the more streamlined his thoughts seemed to become and his anger and annoyance at Mr. Malfoy started to wane only to grow again whenever he is forced to interact with the man.  A week into his grounding, Harry stopped talking to Mr. Malfoy in general during the meals, instead only facing Draco, even when Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were talking to him. He just did not care. Harry seemed to realize that Mr. Malfoy was never going to apologize, and the fact, along with Mrs. Malfoy not calling Mr. Malfoy out, or being on Harry’s side, just fueled his anger, which he wrote about in great lengths to the dairy.

Tom was always patient with Harry, he always allowed the young boy to vent to him before telling the young Gryffindor advice. At the end of the two weeks, Mr. Malfoy entered Harry’s room just as he finished an essay for Transfiguration.

“Harry,” he said. “Since you have been well-behaved during your punishment, I have thought to give you a gift.” He reached for something leaning against the wall and presented a sleek, black-wooden broomstick. “It is far superior to that broomstick Black got you,” he said with an un-turned nose. “This is the newest model: The Nimbus Two Thousand and One.”

“I don’t want it,” Harry said immediately. “I want my broomstick and my toys.”

Mr. Malfoy’s expression soured. “You will take your gift, Harry, and maybe I will think of returning you your toys when your behavior improves. Just be glad that I am not asking you to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what! I did nothing wrong!” Harry yelled out.

“Nothing wrong? You did everything wrong! You endangered my son—”

“I am your son!” Harry yelled. “Or have your forgotten you’ve adopted me?”

Mr. Malfoy’s sour expression turned livid. “Two more weeks, _Potter_ ,” He snarled before slamming the door again. Harry screamed and banged his fist on the door. Still angry, he turned from the door and to the diary, writing in big, hasty letters. Tom was patient as always and told Harry comforting thoughts, as well as giving him as much advice as he could ( _“It seems that your own adoptive father doesn’t even respect you Harry.”_ )

Harry refused to even get out of his room after that. As long as Mr. Malfoy was home, Harry spent his time locked in his room either pacing around, laying in his bed bored, or writing to Tom. A month without going outside the manor paled his skin. The day before his birthday, Harry looked at his figure in the mirror. He had grown somewhat, though he was still very small for his age. His skin, which was once lightly tanned, was now pale white, almost marble-like. He frowned, thinking of how much he looked like his grandfather in the Mirror of Erised. His black hair grew even more wild, now covering his ears and brushing the back of his neck, and his glasses sat at the end of his nose.

He sighed and heard his door opening. It was time for breakfast. As always, he ignored Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy as he sat down to eat, smiling softly at Draco.

“Well Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, “Have you learned anything from your punishment?”

 _Plenty,_ Harry thought to himself. He looked at Mr. Malfoy for the first time but before he could answer, the owls arrived with their morning mail. One of which was a very small owl who landed in front of Harry. Harry looked over at Draco to see that he too got a letter. Harry quickly opened his to see his friend Ron Weasley’s familiar handwriting.

_Harry!_

_Do you want to come over to the Burrow and stay for the rest of summer? We all miss you and Draco. I would invite Draco too but Blaise wrote to me saying that he and Draco were going to spend some time together so I thought that this would be the perfect time for you to spend some more time with us. I’ve asked my Mum and Dad and they say that it’s okay, so how about it?_

_Ron_

“What are your letters?” Mrs. Malfoy asked.

“Oh, Blaise is wondering if I could spend the rest of the summer with him and Mrs. Zabini,” Draco said. “They’re going to Italy for three weeks.”

“That sounds like fun, and Delilah have been telling me all about it,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled. “I think it’s a good idea, how about you, Lucius?”

“Of course, I’ll have the elves pack your things immediately,” Mr. Malfoy smiled. He turned to Harry and his smile completely vanished. “And you? What is your letter?”

“Ron invited me to spend the rest of summer at the Burrow since Draco and Blaise are going to Italy,” Harry said, his stomach falling at the lithesome look in Mr. Malfoy’s eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not!”

“Because you have done nothing to deserve this outing,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Nothing! I’ve been trapped in my room all month because of you!” Harry yelled. “I did nothing wrong! You just decided that I was in trouble and locked me in the room!”

“You will not talk to your father like that, Harry!” Mrs. Malfoy yelled. “Apologize immediately.”

“For what? For saying the truth? He locked me in my room for saving the Philosopher’s Stone! And how many times do we have to tell you two, Draco went willingly with me! Why can’t you be happy about what we’ve done like Sirius?”

“Because I am not that stupid, disgusting f—poof of a mutt!” Mr. Malfoy said angrily. “I am your father, and you will respect me!”

“No!” Harry yelled. He slammed his hands on the table.

“Harry!”

“No! You don’t respect me!” Harry yelled. “You lock me in my room while Draco doesn’t even get a minute of punishment! It’s not fair!”

“Draco did nothing wrong—”

“He went into the corridor with me! He went through the trapdoor with me! He faced everything I did! Why is it that he is allowed to do these things and I’m not?” Harry demanded.

“Because he was not the one dragging my son into these dangerous situations, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said, saying Harry’s name was as much venom as he could.

Harry just stared at Mr. Malfoy and said in a cold voice, “I wish I wasn’t adopted.”

Mr. Malfoy challenged Harry’s stare. He stood up silently and walked around the table, his footsteps seemingly echoing throughout the room as Draco and Mrs. Malfoy watched, both too shocked for words. Mr. Malfoy grabbed Harry’s letter when he was near enough and silently tearing it apart, letting the fragments fall to the floor. “You are never going to see those disgusting Weasleys or Black ever again, Potter,” he said coldly.

Harry stood up suddenly. He left the room, ignoring Mrs. Malfoy’s calls as Mr. Malfoy returned to his seat. Harry went to his room and locked the door behind him. He let out an angry scream before opening the diary again, hastily writing _“Ron invited me to his home. I don’t want to be near Mr. Malfoy anymore! I’m using my Cloak to get my things and go to the Burrow. You’re coming with me.”_


	2. Summertime Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard to write for some reason.

**Chapter 2**

**Summer Lessons**

Mr. Malfoy caught Harry storming out of his room. “Where do you think you’re going?” the man demanded. In his anger, Harry has forgotten his Invisibility Cloak.

“To my godfather’s,” Harry said. He looked at Mr. Malfoy and spat out, “He and Remus are a far better dad than you’ll ever be!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I am your father—”

“No you’re not! My dad is dead! You’re just a cold man who raised me,” Harry said.

“Harry Malfoy—”

“That’s not my name!” Harry stomped his foot.

“Fine _Potter_ , you want to act like this?” Mr. Malfoy snarled, his temper completely lost. He waved his wand and the trunk filled with Harry’s possessions appeared. “Get out of my house. You’re not welcomed here if you continue to behave like this.”

Harry felt extreme anger towards Mr. Malfoy. So much so that the shock over the fact that he was kicked out didn’t register. Instead, in his loudest voice, he just yelled, “FINE! GOODBYE!” Grabbing the trunk handle he dragged it with great difficulty back into his room. Mr. Malfoy just stood in the doorway and watched as Harry stuffed his schoolbooks, clothes, and secretly the Invisibility Cloak, into the huge trunk. It closed with a loud _thunk_ sound and Harry again picked up the heavy, wheel-less, trunk and dragged it along the floor. It made an awful low-pitched screeching sound as Harry strained to pull it across the wooden floor. He kept his head straightforward, not daring to look at Mr. Malfoy as he pulled across the large carpet rug, the trunk getting stuck for a moment or two before clearing the rug, dragging the edge of the carpet along with it. Harry had trouble turning the trunk around in the hallway, having to drop it on the carpeted middle in order to push it straight again. By the time he was halfway down the hallway, Draco and Mrs. Malfoy ran up towards them.

“Lucius, what is going on?” Mrs. Malfoy demanded.

“Simple, Harry no longer wants to be part of our family,” Mr. Malfoy said indifferently. “If that is what he believes, he has no reason to be here.”

“Are you mad, Lucius?” Mrs. Malfoy said, sounding both furious and scandalized. “Harry! Put that trunk back in your room.”

“No! If _Mr. Malfoy_ doesn’t want me here, then I’m leaving,” Harry said. “He punishes me unfairly while doing nothing to Draco, I don’t want to deal with it. At least the Weasleys don’t throw me in my room for saving the world!”

“Of course we want you here Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy said quickly. “Put your stuff back in your room.”

“Let me go to the Weasley’s for the rest of the summer,” Harry challenged.

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Then I’m leaving.”

“Lucius, shut up, Harry, go back to your room,” Mrs. Malfoy said irritably. He rubbed her forehead and muttered, “I’m getting a nasty headache.”

“Harry… you don’t want to leave me… do you?” Draco frowned.

“No!” Harry said quickly. “No, no, no I’ll never leave _you_ Draco, it’s _him_ that doesn’t want me here!”

“Harry! Room. Now. Draco, go with him,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

Draco frowned but nodded. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him away from Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, the trunk laying between them. “Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Look at what you’ve done! Are you insane?”

“The boy doesn’t want us to be his parents, then so be it,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I did not waste nine years of my life for that boy to turn exactly into Potter!”

“That’s inevitable Lucius, he _is_ his father’s son! We saw it early on!” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t accepted that!”

“No I have not, he should behave more like Draco,” Mr. Malfoy said. “If that disgusting dog Black didn’t show up Harry would have been in the proper House! He would have proper values!”

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Mrs. Malfoy muttered slightly to herself. She placed both hands to her mouth, dragged them down her face while the fingers interlocked until only the pointer fingers stood erect under her lips. “Lucius,” she said shortly. “Please tell me that you still do not hold that stupid idiotic grudge over Harry’s Sorting.”

“If he was a proper Malfoy, he would have been in Slytherin,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Would have been—Lucius Malfoy you stupid idiot!” Mrs. Malfoy yelled. “Who cares? You should be happy that the boy got into Hogwarts in the first place and survived the year with the grades he got! Top in Defense Against the Dark Arts! Top!”

“An excellent class for the grandson of the Dark Lord,” Mr. Malfoy sneered.

“What? You would rather Harry be more like our Lord?” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Tell that to me straight Lucius. Think about the Dark Lord, think of all the things he has done to you—done to our family—and tell me again that you would rather Harry be more akin to him.”

Mr. Malfoy gave Mrs. Malfoy a sharp look. He thought for a moment. “I am one of my Lord’s most trusted follower, Narcissa, he has given me an object of great importance. I have done nothing to earn his wrath, if Harry was more like his grandfather it would only cause to improve his temperament.”

“How?” Mrs. Malfoy demanded.

“He would see the importance of our values! And how disgusting the people he chose to associate himself with are,” Mr. Malfoy said. “He will never be a proper member of the Pureblood Society—”

“He’s Half-Blood Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy interrupted. “And he is not just an artist’s canvas for you to make a boy of your dreams, Lucius. Harry is who he is and the best we can do is raise him to be a good man.”

“Which he will never be by associating himself with that poof-of --dog and those Weasleys!” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Poof? Poof? Since when were you homophobic, Lucius?” Mrs. Malfoy asked. “If you call Sirius a poof, then you’ll also be calling Harry’s father a poof, the son of your Lord, a poof. I cannot believe what I am hearing from you, Lucius.”

“I am just speaking the truth, Narcissa,” Mr. Malfoy said angrily. “I wanted Harry to grow into a man we can be proud of. He will not be close to that if he follows his ridiculous father’s footsteps.”

“Enough,” Mrs. Malfoy said shortly. “You are going to go to your study and stay there until I come back.” She began to walk past Mr. Malfoy.

“And where are you going?” He asked.

“I am going to talk to _our_ sons Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “ _Both_ of them.”

She stomped past her husband and into Harry’s room where she found Harry and Draco hugging each other tightly. She stood for a moment, collecting her emotions, before looking at her sons again. She cleared her throat and they separated quickly. “Harry, Draco,” she said in what she hoped was a sweet voice. “Both of you pack your trunks. The Weasleys and Delilah will be expecting both of you.”

“You mean I can go to Ron’s?” Harry gasped.

“Yes,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded. “You more than deserve it. Don’t worry about your father boys, I’ll talk to him. I think some time alone will do us all good. So pack up now, and I will see you downstairs.” She left the room and the two turned to each other.

“We’re leaving!” Harry cheered, hugging Draco tightly.

“We are!” he said. “You deserve this Harry. What father did was wrong.” Draco squeezed his arms tighter around Harry’s body.

“Yeah… wish you’ll be with me though,” Harry said with a slight tone of sadness.

Draco smirked and said, “There’s a very important reason for that Harry.”

“What is it?”

“Nope, not telling you,” Draco said. “Blaise and I have things to prepare for, and we’re not telling you until the very end.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked, taking a step back. “Does Ron know what you’re up to?”

“Of course not, if he did you’ll just bully our plans from him,” Draco chuckled. “Hey, Harry?”

Harry looked up at Draco. “Ye—”

Draco quickly placed his lips on Harry’s. They kissed for barely a moment before Draco moved away. “I don’t care what Father says,” he whispered. “You’re more Slytherin than anyone can be… in fact you being in Gryffindor makes you the perfect Slytherin! So, don’t worry about it? Okay?”

“Yeah…” Harry breathed, “I won’t.”

“Good. Now come help me pack for Italy!” Draco ordered.

“Yes brother,” Harry giggled. The two quickly ran out of Harry’s room and into Draco’s, spending the next ten minutes filling his trunk with clothes, toys, and everything else Draco wanted to bring to Italy with Blaise.

When they were done, house-elves appeared to levitate their trunks so it followed the two downstairs. Mrs. Malfoy was waiting for them in the drawing room, the fireplace grate moved to the side for Harry and Draco. “Okay,” Mrs. Malfoy said, hugging both boys. “I’ll do my best to visit you both before school begins, but if not, I’ll see you both on September 1st. Be good, listen to your elders. And absolutely no magic,” she gave them a knowing look.

“Yes mother,” they both said.

“Good. I’ll have the house-elves transport your belongings after you go through the Floo Network. Also, Harry, I’ve already sent Hedwig to the Burrow she’ll get there later today I reckon. Now, Harry first,” she said as she handed him the bowl holding floo-powder. Harry took it and walked into the massive fireplace. He threw the powder onto the logs and said, “The Burrow!” as green flames overtook him. He disappeared in the fire as it died out.

“Ok Draco… you go,” Mrs. Malfoy said.

“Are you and father going to be okay?” Draco asked.

“Of course, don’t worry about is,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Just enjoy your time with Blaise and give Delilah my love. Do you have your spare pair of glasses?”

“Yes mother,” Draco said.

“Good. Have fun now,” Mrs. Malfoy said. Draco nodded and he took a fistful of floo powder and yelled, “Zabini Manor!” when he stepped into the fireplace. He felt himself spinning endlessly as visions of other fireplaces blurred past him. When the spinning stopped he found himself face-to-face with Blaise’s smiling face.

“There you are! Come on! Mother’s almost ready, we’re staying with my Uncle in his manor—it’s right next to a beach! It’ll be great!” Blaise said.

Draco stepped out of the fireplace and followed Blaise out of the small drawing room into a bigger one where Mrs. Zabini was waiting. “Good, you’re here Draco,” she said. “A little sun will do you good, you and your brother are way too pale. Why isn’t Harry coming with us anyway?”

“Because Draco and I have questions for Uncle that we don’t want Harry to hear,” Blaise said.

“I see… well if all your trunks are here, let’s get moving,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Boys hold onto me tightly now.” Draco and Blaise both grabbed onto Mrs. Zabini tightly and she spun in place. Draco felt a sharp pull at his navel and squeezed his eyes as he felt as if he was being squeezed through a small compact tube, iron bands locking him in place.

The feeling only lasted a second and when Draco opened his eyes, he looked around to see that he was in a rather expensive looking house. It was smaller than Malfoy Manor, but Draco could practically smell the money. The walls were painted a light blue, matching the cloudless sky Draco could see out through an expansive window; what looked like priceless vases stood on small pillars and tables of their own, portraits of handsome wizards greeted them all smiling perfect white teeth, some forgetting to wear shirts, as Draco and Blaise look around. The floor appeared to be made of the whitest marble Draco has ever seen and a large, ornate rug laid in the muddle. “Where is that damn man—there he is!” Mrs. Zabini said smiling.

Draco looked around and his eyes fell on a tall, muscular handsome man with dark olive skin. He had a stylized black hair, brown eyes and a short beard. “Delilah!” He said in a thick accent. “So good to see you again!”

“Geo, it has been ages,” Mrs. Zabini said. “You cannot believe the stiffness you’ll get being in England so much, I swear that society is getting more and more boring with each passing day!”

“And I keep telling you, Delilah, to quit boring Britain and live here instead!” the man said.

“I will never do that, recently Britian has became much more interesting throughout the years because of one boy—but I’ll tell you that later,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Blaise, greet your Uncle.”

“Yes! Nephew! Come and greet your loving Uncle,” the man smiled at Blaise.

“Hi Uncle Geovanni,” Blaise said. He reached and hugged the man; Draco was both surprised and impressed at the size of the man’s biceps, they were almost as thick as his head. “And who is this?” the man asked when he saw Draco.

“This is Blaise’s friend, Draco,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Narcissa’s older son.”

“Ohh, nice to meet you Draco,” the man said letting go of his nephew and taking Draco’s hand. “I’m Geovanni Zabini. Blaise’s uncle and sister-in-law to that lovely woman Blaise calls ‘Mother.’”

“Stop it Geo or Alex might get mad,” Mrs. Zabini laughed. “Blaise, why don’t you show Draco the room you’ll be staying at? It’s the same one right?”

“Of course, Alex and I made sure the elves prepared it last night, and yours is ready as well,” Geovanni Zabini smiled. Mrs. Zabini gave a smile. “Italians! They know how to treat a woman,” she said. “Everybody else’s no match after them.”

“You say that every time you visit!”

“Because it’s true!” Mrs. Zabini said. “Blaise! Why are you two still here? Go get to your room!”

Blaise nodded, and he turned to Draco. “Come on,” he said. The two boys walked past the adults and up a small set of stairs to the second floor. Blaise led Draco towards the door immediately to the left of the staircase. Opening it, they walked into a small bedroom with two separate beds, a nightstand and lamp between them. On the wall was another window that pointed towards a small village with cobblestone paths. There was also, much to Draco’s enjoyment, several pictures of dragons. “They’re Nino’s favorite animal too,” Blaise said. “He’s my cousin.”

Draco nodded and turned to Blaise. “Your Uncle Geovanni is the man we need to speak to, correct?”

“Yes, though we can also ask Uncle Alex for help,” Blaise said. “He’s Uncle Geovanni’s husband.”

“Right…” Draco said. He closed his eyes for a moment as he mentally prepared himself to take as much notes as possible from Blaise’s uncles. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that both his and Blaise’s trunks were at the foot of their beds. “Let’s go ask him,” he said.

Blaise nodded. They found Geovanni Zabini, along with Mrs. Zabini, outside sitting in the sunshine with another man. He was shorter than Mrs. Zabini and had a little fat on his stomach but otherwise he seemed just as skinny as Mr. Malfoy. “Uncle Geo, Uncle Alex,” Blaise said.

“Blaise! There you are—and you must be Draco,” Alex smiled. He moved to stand up, but Blaise shook his head. “Uncles, we need to ask you something,” he said, a serious expression on his face. Mrs. Zabini rolled her eyes slightly as she relaxed into her chair.

“Of course, what is it?” Geovanni Zabini asked.

“I have an adopted brother named Harry Potter-Malfoy, my parents adopted him when we were three and he has been with us ever since,” Draco said. “When we were young, we used to fight and joke around how we were Harry’s husband and he was going to be our wife. Now we both want to make Harry our husband so—can you please teach me how to make Harry my husband?”

“No way! Harry is going to be my husband,” Blaise said fiercely, “So teach me first Uncle!”

Mr. Zabini looked between his nephew and Draco and laughed, his voice deep. Smiling at both of them he asked, “You want to know how to seduce pretty boys?”

“Yes!” they both said at the same time.

“Okay then, I’ll teach you both how to seduce boys,” Mr. Zabini smiled. “But in the end, both of you need to respect Harry’s wishes and who he chooses, even if it is neither of you, understand?”

“Yes Uncle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, and this is very important, make sure that this does not ruin your friendship,” Mr. Zabini said. “I would hate to see your friendship end over a boy.”

“It won’t sir,” Draco said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“Good! Then your lessons on how to seduce boys will begin… tomorrow. For now, just relax, enjoy yourselves, and finish any homework if you still have some left. My home is yours, and don’t worry about the neighbors. We live in a small wizarding village.”

“Okay Uncle,” Blaise said. He turned to Draco smirked. “Well, how about it? Let’s go look have a look around.”

“Okay,” Draco nodded.

“Be back for lunch boys,” Mrs. Zabini said. “Blaise, I expect you to behave yourself.” She turned back to Mr. Zabini and said, “Where was I? Oh yeah, so you remember me telling you ‘bout Sirius Black right? Well, he was supposed to be Harry’s daddy…”

The boys turned and left. When they were away from the adults they looked at each other, a competitive glint in their eyes. This was the reason they didn’t think to bring Harry with them. They needed to learn, to be taught how to seduce boys so that they can begin their selfish love-filled conquest for Harry’s heart.

 

Harry meanwhile just finished telling Ron what happened during the past month at Malfoy Manor. They were both in Ron’s room sitting on their beds. Harry’s trunk was sprawled open, his diary next to him.

“Wow… that’s horrible Harry,” Ron said. “Mr. Malfoy locked you in your own room? With nothing? How did you survive?”

“With help,” Harry said. “Draco helped me get my wand back immediately after fa—Mr. Malfoy sent me to my room, he hid my stuff in a trunk in his study, and while there I found this.” He indicated to the diary. “It’s a diary or something that talks back to you. I think it has to be really enchanted or has a mind of it’s own.”

“An enchanted dairy?” Ron asked. “Hermione would love that.”

“Well, she can’t have Tom,” Harry smirked. “That’s the Diary’s name. Tom Riddle. He says that these are just his memories of the time he went to Hogwarts, but I don’t see how that can happen.”

“Maybe it just learns quickly,” Ron shrugged. “Can I see?” He grabbed the diary, “Hello Tom,” he said opening it up, looking at the blank pages. He flipped through them and looked at Harry. “You’re pulling me! There’s nothing written on here!”

“Of course not! Tom uses the ink to talk back,” Harry said. “He’s a great secret-keeper that way. You can write anything you want and nobody else will read it.”

“Really?” Ron smirked. He quickly dashed to find a quill and pen and said out loud as he wrote, “ _’I am Harry Malfoy and I think the Weasleys are better than the Malfoys. Also Ron is the best friend in the world.’_ ”

Harry laughed and they both watched as the ink seeped into the pages before a response came back. _“I take it you are a Weasley. Tell me Weasley, where is Harry?”_

“It knows!” Ron gasped. “It can tell the difference between handwriting Harry!”

“Really? That’s so cool, give me that,” Harry said as he took the quill and wrote, _“I’m sorry Tom, I was just telling Ron about what happened at home and how I found you. I hope you aren’t mad.”_

The words again seeped into the page and Tom’s answer appeared immediately. _“Do not worry Harry. I would just want to warn against carelessly sharing our diary. I do not want myself to fall into the wrong hands who might try to force the secrets out of me.”_

 _“That makes sense. I’m sorry Tom, I’ll be more careful from now on,”_ Harry wrote in the diary. He closed it and turned to Ron. “Tom needs to be kept a secret,” he said. “He’s my diary, after all.”

“I guess so,” Ron said. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

They left Ron’s room and made their way down the stairs. On the third-floor landing Harry caught a peek at large brown eyes staring at him through an open door before it closed with a snap. “Ginny,” Ron groaned. “She’s been acting weird all summer.”

Fred and George were in the kitchen and when they saw Harry, they both perked up, “Harry!” Fred said. “Come to visit your boyfriend?”

“We’re not boyfriends,” Harry said.

“Aww? Did you guys break up?” George asked. “Don’t worry Harry, I can be your Weasley.” The twins laughed, ignoring Harry’s sharp look and blushing neck, and George asked “Where’s Draco?”

“Italy with Blaise,” Harry said. “Apparently he and Blaise has things they need to discuss that I can’t hear.”

“Oh really?” George asked. “That sounds too bad…”

“Yeah, we get Harry all to ourselves for the rest of the summer, no brother to help him out—”

“Or stand between us—”

“Or drag him away from us—”

“It’s like Christmas all over again!” The twins laughed again, and Ron and Harry shared a confused look before going outside. It’s a sunny day and it has been too long since Harry has been on his broom. He spent the rest of the day flying in the air on his Nimbus, Ron flying after him on one of the older models of broomsticks the Weasleys kept in the shed.

Life at the Burrow was so much different then living with the Malfoys. There were no invisible onlookers to keep track of him, no silly High-Society rules that had to make him monitor his behavior every day when with others, and best of all Mrs. Weasley gave him triple helpings to her homecooked food!

Harry spent his days playing with Ron and the twins before telling Tom about it in the Diary, as well as Draco through his letters. He asked Draco several times to tell him what he and Blaise were doing and several times Draco refused, only writing to him that Harry will “love it” at Hogwarts. A week after Harry arrived at the Burrow, Harry heard from Hogwarts. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidently knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Harry ignored this.

“Letters from school,” Mr. Weasley said, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. “Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry—doesn’t miss a trick, that man.”

Harry opened his letter and read the list of his new books.

SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

 _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wandering with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry’s. “You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!” he said. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan—bet it’s a witch.”

At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

“That lot won’t come cheap,” George said, with a quick look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive…”

“Well, we’ll manage,” Mrs. Weasley said, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s thing’s secondhand.”

“Right, you’re starting this year, yeah?” Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron’s elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

“Morning all,” Percy said briskly. “Lovely day.”

A letter for Harry came near the end of the day. Once he saw it was from Draco, he rushed away to Ron’s room to read it.

_Harry,_

_I miss you so much Harry, it’s like you took a piece of me with you when you went to the Burrow and I cannot help but count the days until we are united once more so you can complete me._

_Did you get your school list? Can you believe how much of Lockhart’s books we have to buy? I never read one of them, none of them are about dragons so I didn’t care. Anyway who do you think the new teacher is going to be? Blaise thinks it must be a huge fan of Lockhart, but nobody can be that obsessed with a person right? But then again, who else could it be? Anyway, Blaise and I are heading to Diagon Alley next Wednesday to get our school books, Uncle Geo, Blaise’s Uncle and the guy who is teaching us something very important, told us that Italy’s equivalent to Diagon Alley won’t have the books we need._

_I’m doing great by the way! I’ve already learned tons from Uncle Geo (he insists I call him that) and I’m sure that you’ll love the changes he suggested to me, something about bringing out my bookish-charms. Italy is great, the next time I am definitely bringing you here, I even got a_ tan _though it’s not really noticeable. I haven’t heard from Mother or Father, have you? I’m worried about them but I’m also still a bit mad at them for what they did to you. I don’t know how to feel, I only know that I miss you Harry Malfoy, and I cannot wait until I can see you again!_

_So until Wednesday Harry, you will be in my thoughts daily until that single moment where we can be together again and you can finally completely me._

_Love,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Harry found himself blushing at Draco’s letter. He folded and pocketed the letter before leaving Ron’s room. He hesitated, turning to look at Tom’s Diary which was laying on his pillow. Biting his lip he took the Diary with him, feeling comfortable with the book in his hands, and slipped it under his shirt on his back. He didn’t know why, but he just wanted to be close with the Diary for a moment. He made sure that the book was secure between his pants and shirt and left the room. He found the Weasleys getting ready for dinner in the kitchen. “Who was that from, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“My brother,” Harry said. “He and Blaise are going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday to buy their school books.”

“Well, that fits nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Now sit down for dinner Harry before your plate gets cold.”

Harry nodded and sat down. As he ate, Harry could have sworn that his backside felt a little hotter. He pushed the thought to the side, figuring that it must have been caused by the food as it was piping hot. However, the strange heat continued even after he started on his third helping, the food now noticeably cooler. It was always in the same place: on the small of his back, right on top of his pelvis. It wasn’t hurting, and it definitely wasn’t burning, so he just shrugged it off as he silently hummed his approval to Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, his thoughts go to later that night where he took the Diary out of his clothes and began to tell Tom everything about his day again.


	3. The Pompous Author

Chapter 3

The Pompous Author

Harry and the Weasleys woke up early next Wednesday morning, the house in a sense of disarray as they prepare for their trip to Diagon Alley. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” she sighed. “We’ll have to buy some more today. …Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!”

And she offered him the flowerpot. Harry looked inside and took a handful of the green Floo Powder. He stepped onto the fire, threw the powder into the flames, “Diagon Alley!” Harry yelled as the emerald flames rose until he vanished in them. The familiar sense of spinning rapidly came, a great roaring sound in Harry’s ears as he slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to get sick by looking at the brief glimpses of all the fireplaces he was passing by. He waited outside the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron as the Weasleys filed out one by one. When the Weasleys all came through the fireplace, they made the long trek down the crowded Diagon Alley towards Gringotts. Harry was surprised to see Hermione standing at the steps of Gringotts with her parents, two Muggles who were looking around nervously. She and her parents joined the Weasleys, and as soon as Mr. Weasley realized who they were, he looked as if a child on Christmas Day.

“Molly! Look! Muggle money,” he said, completely fascinated as he watched Mr. and Mrs. Granger nervously exchange a ten pound note for Wizarding Money. “We have to have a drink sometime,” he smiled at the two. “I have so much questions for you two—have you heard of a rubber ducky? It’s a fantastic contraption that sometimes gives a squeaking sound when squeezed—I have to know what it’s function is.”

“We’ll meet you back here,” Harry said to Hermione as he and Ron were led to their underground vaults by a goblin.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature tracks through the bank’s underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasley’s vault, but felt dreadful when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of gold coins into a leather bag.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

“We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks,” Mrs. Weasley said, setting off with Ginny.

The first place that Harry, Hermione, and Ron went off to was the ice cream parlor where they brought three large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped down as Harry told Hermione about what Mr. Malfoy did.

“That’s awful,” she gasped. “And your mother did nothing to stop it?”

“Well… they argued a lot,” Harry frowned. “But other than that, nothing. But Draco did loads, he helped me get out of my room on the first day so I can get my wand, and he cared for Hedwig in his room. That’s how I got all my letters to you guys.”

“Really? So you’ve bullied your brother into breaking more rules, haven’t you Harry?” a sneering voice said behind them. Harry jumped and paled as he turned to see Mr. Malfoy standing tall in front of them.

“Hello Father…” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”

“I have business in Knockturn Alley,” Mr. Malfoy said. He looked down at Ron and Hermione, a small sneer playing his lips. “I see that you are still friends with the Weasleys… and you must be the mudblood.”

“Don’t call her that!” Harry said hotly.

Mr. Malfoy gave him a sharp look. “Fine then… muggleborn,” he said. “I am glad that you seem healthy at least, Harry,” he said stiffly. “Knowing you were in the poorhouse, your mother and I worried that you wouldn’t be able to eat, never mind what _they_ were telling you.” He threw a disgusted look over at Ron.

Harry was getting angry now. “Don’t say that about the Weasleys!” he stomped. “They treat me better this summer than you ever did—they didn’t lock me up in a room for a month!”

“You will stop yelling this instant,” Mr. Malfoy ordered.

“No! I’ll scream it out loud!” Harry yelled, his voice slowly getting louder. “You locked me—mmmmm” Harry found that he couldn’t speak, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tried his best to rip it off, but it wouldn’t budge.

Looking completely livid, Mr. Malfoy leaned towards Harry and sneered. “I’ve kept you, taught you, fed you, and dressed you Harry Malfoy. You are my son, and I will not allow you or your brother to speak to me in this manner. There are values in this world that you must uphold, or you will be no better than the rest of them. I have tried my hardest to teach you those values and with every try you without fail always refuse to learn them. I do what I do because I am your father, Harry, and that will _never_ change. Now, apologize.”

Harry felt his tongue fall from the roof of his mouth. Angry, he looked at Mr. Malfoy’s face and hissed out, _“Never, you’re not my dad.”_ But it wasn’t in English.

Mr. Malfoy’s eyes wide and he looked around quickly, looking scandalized. “Are you insane boy?” he said feverishly. “Speaking that language here?”

“I—I didn’t realize—”

“Enough. Apologize now. For everything,” Mr. Malfoy demanded. His hand tightened around his cane. Harry bit his lip, sneered, and spat out an apology.

“You are too much like your father,” Mr. Malfoy said. “But I will accept your apology, Harry.”

“Good, now can you please go back to your business? I have to meet with Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said.

“Tone, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy threatened. “Or next time it will be two months.” Harry glared at the man, his eyes shifting to the hand clenching the cane. The bubble anger inside him started to fizzle away. He didn’t want to argue with Mr. Malfoy in front of Ron and Hermione, he was afraid of what he was going to do to him. Besides, he didn’t want to jeopardize any chance of him seeing Draco again. Luckily for Harry, a voice spoke up.

“Lucius? Is that you, my what is the vampire doing out here today?” Mrs. Zabini walked up to them, followed by a very tall and muscular hairy man with olive skin. “Harry! It’s been forever!” she smiled when she saw Harry. “Get your butt over here so I can hug you.”

Feeling constantly relieved and confused, Harry took a few steps towards Mrs. Zabini and felt the woman’s arms around him as she bent down to hug him. Harry wrapped his arms around Mrs. Zabini lightly, but his eyes never left Mr. Malfoy.

“Delilah, what a surprise,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I thought you were in Italy.”

“Oh, we were in Italy,” Mrs. Zabini said. “But now we’re here to buy Blaise’s and Draco’s schoolbooks.”

“So Draco is here as well? Lovely,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I wished he would have told his father that.”

“Well, both he and Blaise were busy with this man over here,” she jabbed a finger at the hairy man’s direction. “Which reminds me, Draco is alright, but he had a bit of a fall and his glasses broke. We fixed them, but my husband’s brother decided to change their style.”

“Really?” Mr. Malfoy said shortly. He turned to glare at the man. “And what sort of changes were these?”

“Nothing special, just something that complimented his face a little better,” the man shrugged. Mr. Malfoy looked completely unimpressed. Harry edged away from the adults and turned to Ron and Hermione. Looking embarrassed and sorry, he motioned for them to walk away. They slowly edged away from the adults and, once they were sure the adults didn’t see them, went into the nearest shop.

“Sorry,” Harry blushed. “I didn’t think we would run into father.”

“It’s okay…” Ron said a bit awkwardly. “Let’s just… stay away from them for now. Harry agreed and the three spent the next hour going from shop to shop, browsing what they had to offer. Hermione dragged them into a store to buy ink and parchment when Harry and Ron just wanted to stay in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop where Fred and George and Lee Jorden were stocking up.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

Today 12:30pm to 4:30pm

“We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed. “I mean, he’s written almost the whole booklist!”

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’s age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, “Calmly, please, ladies. …Don’t push, there …mind the books, now …”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and Ron and Hermione sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger while Harry wondered around, “I want to find a book for Draco” he told Ron and Hermione.

He immediately went towards the magical creatures sections and started browsing, looking for books on Draco’s favorite animal. “Has that… has that… has that one… Draco, why do you have to have all of these?” Harry whined to himself as he went from title to title. “I gave him that one last Christmas! Why are there so few books—oh.” He pulled off a rather heavy looking book titled _From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon-Keeper’s Guide_. Smiling, he hugged the book to his chest and turned around.

Wanting to keep his gift a surprise, and not wanting to worry Mrs. Weasley by spending extra money, Harry walked up to a tired looking wizard who tried to keep the crowd under control and asked, very politely but a bit too loudly to get his attention. “Excuse me? Can I purchase these books? Or do I have to wait in the very long line?”

The man looked down and saw Harry’s two books and nodded, but before he could lead Harry towards a counter to pay, Gilderoy Lockhart got to his feet and positively shouted, “It _can’t_ be Harry Potter!”

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward ,seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front, causing Harry to drop his two books. The crowd burst into applause. A short man with a large black camera clicked it madly as Harry’s face burned, Lockhart shaking his hand.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” Lockhart said, through his own gleaming teeth. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

Harry felt so embarrassed that he couldn’t open his mouth to correct Lockhart on his last name. When Lockhart finally let go of Harry’s hand, Harry could barely feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

“When young Harry Potter here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today—”

“Malfoy,” Harry finally said, interrupting Lockhart. The author looked down at Harry for only a second and smiled ruefully. “My name,” he emphasized. “Harry Malfoy.”

“Yes, yes of course, anyway—When young Harry Potter here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—“The audience applauded again and Harry started to have a sick feeling in his stomach. “He had no idea,” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, “that he would shortly be getting much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

“You can have these, I’ll buy my own,” Harry said, slipping the books into the cauldron.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Malfoy?” said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened and found himself face-to-face with Draco. “ _Famous_ Harry Malfoy, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Just admit it, you were jealous,” Harry said. Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry stared at his face. It was different now, he actually had a bit of a tan which gave his skin a sort of healthy glow. His blonde hair was longer now, a bit stylized at the top… and his glasses were now a silver color, the frames smaller than his last pair with two glittering stones at each end. Harry found himself blushing as he stared at Draco.

“What’s the matter, Harry? See something you like?” he smirked.

“I…so how was Italy?” Harry asked.

“Completely boring without you Harry,” Draco sighed. “Next time Zabini tries to drag me there, I will have to bring you, we can entertain ourselves there.” Draco winked and smiled as he took Harry’s free hand. “But, I have to say, that you look completely radiant today, Harry.”

“T-Thank you Draco, you look very nice too,” Harry blushed.

“You have no idea,” Draco smirked, his usual cockiness dripping into his voice. “Uncle Geo taught me a lot while I was at Italy. I can say with confidence that I am the superior seducer compared to Blaise. And I’ve actually learned what people like us are called.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“You know… you, me, Blaise, Sirius, you dad… there’s a term for guys like us, boys who likes boys more than girls,” Draco said, sounding very important. “It is called ‘homosexuality. H-O-M-O-S-E-X-U-A-L… err…oh—I-T-Y.”

“Homosexualtea,” Harry stumbled across the word. “Homosexuali—is there a shorter word?” he pouted.

“Yeah! It was… what as it… oh gay!” Draco said. “We’re all gay!”

“I’m sorry dear what did you say?” Mrs. Weasley said looking at them, “Oh, hello Draco, I heard you were at Italy.”

“Hello Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said. Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, “Draco was telling me that we’re gay like Sirius and Charlie!”

“Oh… that…that’s… nice,” Mrs. Weasley said awkwardly. “Harry dear… I think you’re both a bit too young to know those things… … why don’t you two go and get your books and we will meet you outside?”

Harry nodded and smiled at Draco. “Come on! I got you a present,” he said, pulling Draco’s hand. They quickly got their required schoolbooks and paid for them. Outside Harry pulled Draco away from the Weasleys and Grangers in order to give him the book on Dragons. “The only one I could find that you don’t already have,” he smiled.

“Harry… thank you,” Draco said, smiling as he opened the book. “I’ll finally have something to block out Blaise.”

Harry giggled and smiled, blushing lightly. “Well, you love dragons, and you didn’t have this one so… I thought that it would be great to add to your collection.”

“Thank you Harry,” Draco said. He quickly placed his pile of books on the ground, Harry following him, and they hugged tightly. “I missed you Harry,” Draco whispered.

“I missed you too Draco,” Harry whispered. “’Love you, you know?”

“I love you too, brother,” Draco said. “Are the Weasleys treating you right?”

“More than,” Harry giggled. “Um… I ran into father today, just an hour ago.” He felt Draco’s arms tighten around his chest.

“What did he do?” Draco asked.

“Yelled, but Mrs. Zabini helped me,” Harry said. “Oh! And I have to show you something cool the next moment I can. I should have brought him with me, but I didn’t want to lose him.”

“Who?” Draco asked, curious.

“Tom of course,” Harry smiled. “Remember when you helped me out of my room the first day? Well in Father’s study I found a diary that can talk back, it has the memories of a wizard you see, and I’ve been talking to him all summer in my room. His name is Tom Riddle.”

“Tom Riddle?” Draco repeated.

“Yeah, he’s this really great guy, he’s a great listener too, always understands my problems and—”

“Should I be jealous of this diary?” Draco chuckled.

“I don’t know, are you?” Harry asked, poking his tongue out.

Draco laughed and said, “No, because I have no one to be jealous of Harry, we both know whose husband you’re going to be.” He winked, which caused Harry to laugh again. “Come on, we should join the others,” Draco said.

They picked up their books and turned only to see Mr. Malfoy standing in front of both of them. “Harry… Draco,” he said shortly.

“Hello Father,” they both said.

“Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said. He looked at Harry, and Harry could see that he was doing his best to not sneer at him. “I am… sorry. For yelling at you,” Mr. Malfoy said with great difficulty. Harry and Draco stared at their father dumbfounded. He was a man who never apologized! Mr. Malfoy’s nostrils flared as the two boys stared at him for a moment. “If neither of you have nothing to say, I will see you both on September first.”

He turned and walked away from Harry and Draco, the two just staring completely shocked. They turned to each other, lost for words. Silently they made their way back to the Weasleys and Grangers, where Mrs. Weasley decided that it was time for them to leave. Harry and Draco waved goodbye to one another, both still shocked at Mr. Malfoy’s apology.

When he returned to the Burrow, Harry walked up the stairs to his and Ron’s room and automatically went to get Riddle’s diary. Opening it, he wrote, _“Tom, I saw my father at Diagon Alley today. He apologized for yelling at me in public.”_

_“Really? And how does that make you feel, Harry?”_ the Diary wrote back.

_“I don’t know… Draco and I are completely shocked. We never saw him apologize. Ever. He taught us that apologizing is a show of weakness.”_

_“I see,”_ Tom responded. _“And what of the other wrongs he committed Harry? Did he apologize for them?”_

_“No, but I think this might be a start. I hope it is.”_

_“I hope so too Harry, you’re too nice of a boy to have to worry about this,”_ Tom wrote back. _“However, there is time to talk about that later. For now, why don’t you tell me about today. Did you learn anything new?”_

_“I have!”_ Harry wrote excitedly. _“I’ve met Draco at Diagon Alley, he changed so much, he even seemed to have gotten a tan! And he has new glasses. Anyway, I brought a gift for him, a book about Dragons because he loves them, and he told me that there’s a word for boys like me, him, Blaise, Sirius, and my dad. It’s called ‘homosexuality,’ Draco spelled it for me. Also we can use gay, so now I know that I’m gay like my dad. Because I like boys more than girls.”_

_“That is interesting,”_ the Diary responded. _“It is always good to know who you are, Harry Potter-Malfoy. What else happened?”_

_“Nothing much, but I figured out who my new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is,”_ Harry wrote. _“That author Gilderoy Lockhart. A lot of women around Mrs. Weasley’s age love him. He spotted me trying to buy the book for Draco and pulled me in towards him to take pictures. Then he gave this whole speech about how he’s going to be my teacher, it was very embarrassing. Worst of all he kept calling me by the wrong last name. I’m Harry Malfoy, not Harry Potter. Yeah I still have it in my last name, but only when people use my full last name, or when I feel like using it! The rest of the time it’s Malfoy!”_

_“That’s terrible Harry! That man must be either very arrogant or pompous. Do you think you will learn from him?”_

_“No, I don’t.”_

_“Then, how about this Harry?”_ Tom wrote. _“During the school year, I will do my best to teach you what you need to learn in your second year. I will show memories of myself during that year, learning the spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts that you will learn. That, and my explanations will hopefully be enough for you to learn. Think this will help?”_

_“Yes!”_ Harry wrote back immediately, not even waiting for Tom’s words to fade away. _“Yes, I would love that! Thank you, Tom.”_

_“Excellent, I am glad that you agree with me Harry,”_ Tom wrote back. _“Did anything else happened?”_

_“Now that you mentioned it, yeah,”_ Harry wrote. _“When Father was yelling at me, I yelled back. Only it wasn’t in English, it was in Parseltongue.”_

_“That does not seem something to worry about Harry. After all, you are Lord Voldemort’s grandson. His and your gift to commune with snakes is expected to slip out. Were you angry? Could you think that your parseltongue might show itself unconsciously through extreme emotions?”_ Tom asked.

Harry paused and thought to himself. He never thought of how or why he slipped into Parseltongue. The only time he has ever done it intentionally was to mess with Draco. This was the first time he yelled it, or hissed it, in anger at Mr. Malfoy. Hesitating, he dipped his quill in the bottle of ink and wrote, _“Maybe.”_

He watched as his single word bleed into the diary before being replaced by several others. _“Then you have nothing to fear. All you need to learn is to control your emotions, Harry. A terribly difficult thing to do, but I believe that you can do it.”_

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Dipping his pen into the ink he wrote, _“Strange as it sounds, you remind me of Sirius, my godfather. Whenever I was feeling down or doubtful Sirius would always cheer me up, encourage me. He was my dad when my father—Mr. Malfoy—was angry with me.”_

_“Well, you sound like you need all the positive role models you need Harry,”_ Tom wrote back. _“Although with the age I believe I should be, I might be a little too old to be your father, or a father-figure.”_

_“Then, a grandfather figure,”_ Harry wrote back. _“Don’t worry if you think it’s weird, you already know about my and Draco’s and Blaise’s obsession with being each other’s husbands.”_

_“Let us stick to simply mentor for now, shall we Harry? Although I must say, I am grateful for the thought. Now, why don’t you enjoy the rest of your summer break Harry? You deserve it.” Tom replied._

_“Okay Tom, thank you.”_ Harry closed the book, feeling strangely happier. He stood up and placed Tom’s diary under his pillow. Doing his best to push Lockhart’s incident out of his mind, Harry instead focused on the fact that Mr. Malfoy actually apologized to Harry for the first time in his life. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mrs. Zabini said to Mr. Malfoy that made him change his mind, but after a moment of wondering Harry figured it would probably be better if he never found out at all.


	4. Train Ride to Hogwarts

Chapter 4

Train Ride to Hogwarts

Harry hugged his diary close to him. Tomorrow he and the Weasleys were leaving for the Hogwarts Express in Kings Cross, and he could not feel any more excited to see both Draco and Blaise again. Tonight, however, Tom promised that he would should Harry one of his memories. _“Just so you can understand how we shall do this later,”_ Tom promised Harry. Harry placed the diary flat on the desk as Tom instructed and waited.

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping at the beginning of September. Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for September 1st seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. His hands trembling with excitement, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his chair, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus. He knew exactly where he was. This long room with a high ceiling was the Great Hall in Hogwarts. However, the people sitting at the staff table, as well as the students sitting on the House tables, were all unfamiliar to Harry. They were all staring ahead at the Sorting Hat, whom an unfamiliar teacher was holding. “Sorry!” Harry said loudly, realizing that he was standing with the first years.

But nobody looked at him. Not one person turned to stare at him, or even acknowledged that they could hear him. Frowning he looked at the nearest student sitting down on the Ravenclaw table. “Hello?” he said, looking at the handsome face. The teen did not even look at him, he just continued staring at the Sorting Hat as another first year walked up to it. “Can you hear me? I’m sorry for disturbing but…”

Still nothing.

 _Can’t they hear me?_ Harry thought to himself as he looked around. The teacher holding the Sorting Hat gotten Harry’s attention as she said, “Tom Riddle.”

Harry watched as a boy with pale skin and brown hair walk up to the Sorting Hat. He had a rather expressionless face as he sat on the three-legged stool, looking out at the rest of the school in a bored manner. Harry started to make his way towards Riddle just as the Sorting Hat yelled, “SLYTHERIN!” He was expressionless yet again as the hat was pulled from him, and Harry started to follow him again. The boy seemed to interesting to Harry, there was something annoyingly familiar with him, yet Harry couldn’t place it. He watched as Riddle sat down at Slytherin table, a sizable distance from the other Slytherins, and watched as the rest of the first years were sorted with a bored interest.

Harry moved to get closer to Riddle, but the scene around him whirled. Darkness took over and Harry felt as though he was falling—until his body crashed back onto the chair, Riddle’s diary laying open on the desk.

“He was a Slytherin,” Harry said. “He’s in the same House like Draco…”

He quickly grabbed his quill and wrote, _“That was not what I was expecting.”_

_“But it will suffice, will it not?”_

_“Yeah,”_ Harry wrote back. _“I never knew that you were in Slytherin.”_

_“Is that a problem?”_

_“No, after all it’s Draco’s House as well as Blaise’s,”_ Harry wrote. _“And… well you know… it was supposed to be mine.”_

 _“Then why are you in Gryffindor, Harry? From all I know of you, you seem more of a snake than a lion. After all… you possess Salazar’s gift of Parseltongue.”_ Tom wrote.

 _“I don’t… I was just sorted into Gryffindor like my dad. And if I’m being honest… Slytherin, or the idea of me being in Slytherin, scares me a little. It reminds me too much of my grandfather.”_ Harry wrote.

 _“I suppose I can understand that feeling, but this could have been your chance to take Slytherin from your grandfather’s reign, to show him, and your adoptive father, that Slytherin is much more than their pitiful narrow views,”_ Tom wrote.

Harry frowned. He never thought of it that way. He was just too focused on Mr. Malfoy’s controlling nature and his grandfather’s reputation that he never really saw any other way of him being in Slytherin. Even with his brother and Blaise. When he voiced this to the diary, he could have sworn he could hear the diary chuckle softly to him.

 _“There are many things that we do not think about because of our worries Harry, do not feel down about yourself. What happened, happened and we cannot change it. Though, perhaps there is some advantages to being in Gryffindor, my little snake, perhaps among the lion’s den your true Slytherin persona might emerge. After all, you have already acted out a certain persona for all these years: Harry Potter-Malfoy, an orphan who has no familial connection to Lord Voldemort. Such an act would be difficult, if not frustrating, for any other person of your age. You are to be commended,”_ Tom wrote, Harry could feel the praise lifting off of the words. He smiled and bit his lip softly.

 _“Thank you Tom… really,”_ Harry wrote.

_“You are welcome Harry, now it is late I imagine. Sleep, my little snake, and spend tomorrow with Draco and Blaise. I will be with you, always.”_

Harry closed the diary and moved it under his pillow before changing into his pajamas. He fell asleep before his head touched the pillow, his ear directly on top of the lump Tom’s Diary made.

 

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; The and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny’s trunk to their Ford Anglia, which Harry had never noticed until now.

He couldn’t see how eight people, six large trunks, and two owls were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. “Not a word to Molly,” Mr. Weasley whispered to Harry as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, “Muggles _do_ know more than we give them credit for, don’t they?” She and Ginny got into the front seat, which ahd been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. “I mean, you’d never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?”

Mr. Weasley started the car and they trundled out of the yard, but they barely made it out before they had to go back again—the twins forgot their Filibuster Fireworks. Harry was shocked to see that Mr. Weasley knew how to drive. It was a supposedly very hard thing to do, according to the stories Sirius told him about Muggle automobiles.

They made their way to King’s Cross and reached it at half to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

“Percy first,” Mrs. Weasley said once they reached the barrier for Platform nine and three quarters. Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.

“I’ll take Ginny and you two come right after us,” Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron, grabbing Ginny’s hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

“Let’s go together, we’ve only got ten minutes,” Ron said to Harry. Harry made sure that Hedwig’s cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk, and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. Both he and Ron bent low over the handles of their trollies and walked purposefully toward the barrier gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and—

WHOOSH.

They walked through the barrier without any problems, almost running Mrs. Weasley and Ginny who stopped for a second. The platform was in a frenzy with last minute arrivals. Harry had no time to look for Draco as he and Ron hurried to get their luggage on. Mrs. Weasley hugged them both and wished them a good term before ushering Harry, Ron, and Ginny onto the train where the other Weasleys were waiting.

Once the door closed behind them, Harry turned to Ron and said, “You look for a compartment while I look for my brother?”

“Sure,” Ron said. “I’ll see if I can’t find Hermione as well.”

Harry decided to go towards the back of the train. He felt a hard something pressing against his back and frowned as he reached behind. He forgotten that he even stuck his diary between his pants and shirt. Pulling it out, he hugged Tom Riddle’s and his diary close to him as he continued down the train to look for his brother. As he walked down, some students pressed their noses against the compartment doors and windows to have a look at him. Harry felt a small embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as they did so. “Harry! Come here,” a voice called out.

Harry turned to see his Quidditch captain Oliver Wood poking his head out into the hallway. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Wood said.

Harry made his way towards Wood’s compartment to see that he was sitting with another boy. He looked around the same age as Wood if not a year younger. He had a handsome face with brown eyes, and a nice smile. It took Harry only a second to recognize the boy as Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff’s Seeker.

“Now, don’t think I’m fraternizing with the enemy,” Wood chuckled. “But I want you to meet my boyfriend Ced. Ced, this is the best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen: Harry Malfoy.”

“Err nice to meet you… off the field that is,” Harry said.

“Nice to meet you too Harry,” Cedric Diggory smiled. He reached and gave Harry a surprisingly firm handshake, practically squeezing his fingers. “Oli and I were just talking Quidditch when he saw you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Wood said. “I was telling Ced that no matter how good he thinks he is, that you’re always better. I mean, you have the perfect body Harry!”

“I do?” Harry asked confused.

“Yeah!” Wood said enthusiastically. “Lithe and small. Perfect for being a Seeker!”

“Oh…” _I guess he really does think only about Quidditch,_ Harry thought to himself. “Well, I have to go find my brother. Have any of you seen him?”

“Malfoy? No, I haven’t,” Wood said.

“Alright… thanks anyway, nice seeing you again,” Harry said as he left the compartment. _That was a weird visit, wasn’t it Tom?_ Harry thought to himself as he looked down at the diary. He made his way further down the train, ignoring the stares as he did so. He was near the back of the train when he saw a hint of platinum blonde in a window. Running towards it, he smiled when he saw Draco sitting in a mostly full compartment.

Harry pulled open the door and immediately ran towards his brother, falling on top of him as he sat down. “Draco!” he smiled.

“Harry!” The two hugged, and Draco pulled Harry fully on his lap, Harry’s diary falling between them. “I missed you so much,” Draco whispered. “Did the Weasleys treat you like the handsome prince you are?”

Harry found himself blushing as he nodded. He heard someone clear their throat and turned to look at Blaise.

“Harry, you would say hello to Draco and not me? You’re wounding me, _il mio piccolo leone,”_ Blaise said, his voice cracking somewhat but Harry ignored it.

“I’m sorry! Hi Blaise,” Harry smiled, “Umm what did you call me?”

“Hey! No fair using Italian, Zabini,” Draco said as Blaise opened his arms for a hug, which Harry happily gave.

“My uncle told us to use everything we have to our advantage, Draco,” Blaise smirked. “Don’t be jealous just because you can’t understand.”

Draco glared at him and crossed his arms. Harry, not wanting the two to argue, decided to sit in between them, relaxing on both of them as he leaned on Blaise and placed his legs on Draco’s lap. “So,” he said in a business-like tone. “Tell me everything about Italy.”

“As if they weren’t gushing about it before,” a third voice said. Harry finally noticed that the three of them weren’t alone and looked to see that on the opposite side was Theodore Nott along with Crabbe, who was glaring angrily at Harry, and Goyle, who looked equally as angry. Nott was sandwiched awkwardly between the two brutes. “Hello Harry,” Theo said.

“Hi Theo,” Harry said before turning back to Draco and Blaise. “Well, tell me everything.”

Draco picked up Harry’s diary and examined the cover. “And if we don’t?” he drawled, turning his eyes onto Harry.

“Then I’ll… I don’t know, but come on, you told me that we’re all gay and something about an Uncle Geo,” Harry said. “So what else?”

“Well, Harry, Draco and I went to visit my Uncle Geo,” Blaise said. He lifted his hand and placed it on Harry’s stomach. Harry stared at it confused and looked up at Blaise. “He taught us some much needed lessons, you see… Lessons that will make me a better husband for you than Draco.”

“Is that why you have your hand on my stomach? I don’t have a stomachache, you know,” Harry said.

“Oh umm… yeah?” Blaise said awkwardly.

“Huh… anyway Draco, how did you get _tanned_? I thought you couldn’t get one!” Harry said.

“Well… I wasn’t allowed inside for most of the day,” Draco said. “Uncle Geo thought that I would look better with a tan, and I like it,” he smiled. “But enough about that, I want to hear more about your diary, Harry.”

“You have a diary? Since when?” Blaise chuckled.

“Don’t make fun of Tom,” Harry snapped.

“Tom? You named the diary?” Blaise asked.

“Actually… the diary belongs to Tom Riddle, and I’m talking to his memories,” Harry said. “I don’t know how though, but he’s very nice.” Draco opened the dairy and frowned. “There’s nothing in here Harry,” he said while Blaise looked at Harry curiously.

“Riddle… why does that sound familiar?” he muttered to himself.

“Oh! That’s because the writing disappears after you write something,” Harry said. “He uses it to talk. See?” He reached for the diary and pulled out a quill. Blaise moved and pulled out a small bottle of ink out of his trunk overhead and opened it for Harry. Harry dipped his quill into the ink bottle Blaise was holding and wrote in the diary, _“Hello Tom, I am in the Hogwarts Express sitting next to Draco and Blaise.”_

Blaise and Draco watched in curious fascination as the ink seemed to seep into the yellowish paper. Then, more surprisingly, words appear that Harry did not write. _“Hello Harry, am I to guess that the two boys are sitting on either side of you?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Harry wrote.

 _“Then I would like to say hello to them, and reassure them that their boy is safe in my hands.”_ Tom wrote back.

“Your boy?” Harry asked out loud.

“Of course,” Draco smirked, collecting himself form his shock rather quickly. “You’re my boy Harry, my future husband—”

“ _My_ future Husband, Draco,” Blaise said, giving a light glare to the older Malfoy. Turning back to Harry he asked, “What else can the book do?”

“He can show me his memories,” Harry said. “The book kind of sucks me in, yeah, and I watch it as if it was happening around me. Last night I saw his sorting.”

“That’s cool,” Blaise smiled.

“What was his House?” Theo Nott asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Slytherin,” Harry answered.

“The House you should have been in, correct?” Theodore asked. “According to your brother and father.”

“Yes,” Harry said shortly, giving Nott a sharp look.

“Don’t talk about it,” Blaise said. “Sore subject.”

“It is not,” Harry snapped. “I’m in Gryffindor. Who cares if I was supposed to be in Slytherin? According to Tom and Draco, I’m a better Slytherin then the lot of you _because_ I’m in Gryffindor!”

“How so?” Nott asked.

Harry looked at Draco and bit his lip briefly. “Because… nobody would suspect me,” Harry said.

“Of what?”

Harry’s eyes shifted to Draco again, silently pleading for help. Draco looked down and pulled Harry to him. “Do you think it’s safe to tell him?” Harry whispered.

“Not in front of them,” Draco said, motioning towards Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry nodded. He turned to Nott and gave him an innocent smile. “Everyone thinks that I’m just an innocent boy, Theo, but I’m not. At least, not in the way everyone thinks I am. I’m more… serpentine than the other Gryffindors.”

“Are you now?” Nott asked as he crossed his arms. “Interesting… though I figure you won’t be telling me how exactly?”

“Not with those two here,” Harry said, pointing to Crabbe and Goyle, who gave him another dim glare. Nott frowned but shrugged. “Then, you’ll just tell me later Harry.”

“Maybe… if we feel like it,” Harry said, looking at Draco again. He felt two pairs of arms wrapping around him and looked to see that both Draco and Blaise were trying to pull him away from the other. Instead, Harry stayed where he was, and continued to lie on both, his head on Draco’s shoulder now and his legs on Blaise’s lap.

Theo just stared at Harry for a while before shrugging. Blaise tapped Harry’s shoulder and leaned his head, so he was close to Harry’s ear. “Harry, do you want to hang out with me? Just the two of us, we can go relax by the Black Lake after classes tomorrow,” he whispered.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry nodded. Blaise smiled, his eyes shifting to Draco. “Don’t tell Draco about it, okay? I just want it to be you and me,” Blaise said.

Okay,” Harry whispered.

Blaise smiled and asked, “Can I put my hand on your chest again?”

“Um…I don’t see why not,” Harry said, and Blaise snaked his hand where it was before, resting in the middle of Harry’s chest. Harry felt rather comfortable between Blaise and Draco, so much so that he found himself lulling slightly.

“Tired Harry?” Blaise chuckled.

“No, just comfortable,” Harry said. “So, Theo, what did you do during summer?” he asked, turning his head on the inside of Blaise’s shoulder.

“Nothing much, just traveled with my father,” Theo said. “Though, from what I heard from Draco, you spent yours with the Weasleys?”

“Yeah, they’re my friends.”

“Why?”

“Why what? I like Ron, I like Fred and George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are nice to me and Draco, I just like them,” Harry said.

“But they’re—that doesn’t make sense,” Theo said. “My mother and father told me countless times that people like the Weasleys are beneath us.”

“Well, sorry to say Nott, but your parents are wrong,” Harry said. “They shouldn’t be trusted blindly. Draco and I know that for sure.”

Theo frowned, genuinely confused. “That doesn’t make sense,” he whispered to himself. He looked at Harry, “You’re a Malfoy but you are openly associating yourself with Weasleys?”

“I am. They even thought I was dating one of them for some time,” Harry chuckled.

“Dating—I’m sorry but I can’t make any sense of this,” Theo frowned.

It was Harry’s turn to shrug. “You don’t have to immediately,” he said. “Just don’t mock or bully my friends.”

“Okay,” Theo said, though there was still a frown on his face.

“If it helps,” Draco said, “We could introduce Theo to the twins, I’m sure they’ll loosen him up.”

“Yeah,” Blaise chuckled. “I always told you, you were a bit too tight Nott.”

“I am not too tight!” Nott argued. Blaise and Draco laughed, but Harry frowned a little, feeling as though he was missing a joke. He yawned it off, feeling suddenly very sleepy, and closed his eyes.

 

“Harry… Harry, wake up,” a voice said. Harry groaned and sluggishly opened his eyes to see Blaise smiling down at him. “We’re almost there Harry, stop using Draco and I and get changed,” he chuckled.

Harry looked around to see that Theo was already changed, as well as Draco and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t in the compartment.

“Ron came by looking for you,” Draco said. “When he saw you were sleeping… he left and returned with your robes. His ears were red, did you two do something while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, no of course not Draco,” Harry said as he sat up. He took his robes from Draco and began to get dress, taking off his muggle shirt and pants and putting on his Gryffindor school robes and dress pants. He sat down to put on his school shoes and saw Theo staring at him. “No sense of privacy at all?” he said.

“Oh… sorry,” Harry said, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m just used to changing in front of these two.”

“I see,” Theo said shortly. Blaise laughed and stood up, “Told you Theo, too tight.”

The sound of the train whistle caught Harry’s attention. He looked outside to see that they were slowing down, the sleepy town of Hogsmeade rolling closer and closer as the Hogwarts Express slowed into the station. The four stayed in their compartment until the train stopped, and Harry heard Hagrid’s booming voice yelling, “Firs’ Years! Firs’ Years over here!”

Harry wondered how they would get to the castle as they won’t be taking the boats. He, Draco, Blaise, and Theo stepped out of their compartment and into the crowd of students filtering out of the train. They stayed in the crowd as they moved onto the platform. First years shuffled nervously towards Hagrid while the rest of the student body moved as one towards a path that led upwards to a series of coaches that had no horses. Harry watched as older years got into the carriages and magically they moved by themselves down the dirt road.

Getting the idea, Harry led the other three towards an empty carriage and stepped into it. Blaise, being last, closed the door behind him and the four looked at each other as they waited. Then with a jolt, the carriage started moving by its own. Harry turned to look outside and watched as the Hogwarts Express slowly disappeared as their carriage moved up a rounded hill. When he could no longer see the train or Hagrid, he turned to the others in the carriage, only to see that Theo was watching him with a curious expression. “What is it?” he asked.

“We’re alone,” Theo Nott said. “Crabbe and Goyle are not here, it is just us four. So, since you have told me that you cannot tell me in front of those two, now is your chance. What makes you, Harry Malfoy, a much better Slytherin then the rest of us who are actually sorted into Slytherin House?”

Harry bit his lip, he wasn’t expecting Nott to ask so soon. Nervously, he turned to Draco, who was frowning. “Not very subtle, are you Theo?” Draco asked.

“I just want to know,” Theo shrugged. “Harry, you did tell me that you would reveal this thing once Crabbe and Goyle are gone.”

Harry looked away from Theo, doing his best not to meet his eyes as he looked over at Blaise, who had an equally worried expression. “Theo—”

“Okay,” Harry said, interrupting Blaise. “I did say that I would tell you, so I will. …After I make sure that you can keep a secret.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not including the adults who know, there are only four people other than me who know about this,” Harry said. “Five if you want to include my diary.”

“Of course, I can keep a secret, and you mad?” Theo said.

“No, just cautious,” Harry said. “I have an ability that no one else have.”

“Which is?”

Harry looked at Draco and Blaise. They both had nervous expressions on their faces, as if wondering if Harry should really be telling Theo. Harry closed his eyes and took a long breath before opening them again. “I can talk to snakes.”

 


	5. First Day

Chapter 5

First Day

Dumbledore stood on the footstep in front of a wooden door. He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then knocked twice. He waited a moment for the door to open, only to see Remus Lupin standing in the threshold. “Professor Dumbledore?” he said.

“Hello Remus, is Sirius in? There is something I need to tell him… you as well,” Dumbledore said. “It is about James.”

“Oh,” Lupin said, looking around a bit nervously. “Sirius’s in our den …I suppose it’s okay that you come in.”

Dumbledore stepped into the house and followed Lupin further into the house. He examined the walls. There were many pictures of Sirius and James when they were young, a few that Dumbledore remembered being from James’ and Lily’s wedding which caused a knot of guilt drop in his stomach, and twice as much pictures of Harry and Draco at various ages. Lupin escorted Dumbledore to a set of double doors and opened it for him.

The den was quite roomy. There was a fireplace big enough to fit two grown men in it with a marble mantle, on top of which were more pictures of Harry and Draco, this time playing with a dog. The windows in the room were all open, sunlight pouring in onto the light wooden floor, an oval carpet taking a large majority of the middle. The walls were painted a light blue, bookcases lining one side, next to which a large dog with a black coat was sleeping next to. Sirius was sitting in one of the few armchairs, the _Daily Prophet_ on his lap and a cup of coffee sitting on an end table next to him. The man was still in his pajamas, a night robe over them.

“Sirius, you’re still aren’t dress?” Lupin sighed.

“It’s Sunday,” Sirius shrugged without looking up. “Who was at the door anyway… oh.” He looked up to see Professor Dumbledore standing at the room’s entrance. “What do you want?” he asked rather standoffish.

“To tell you a truth that I was scared to admit,” Dumbledore said. “At least until a certain eleven-year-old gave me the courage to.”

Sirius glared at the man. Dumbledore seemed unfazed and continued. “There are things that I am not happy to admit, things that I have done in my past that I wish to bury, though life, in it’s many wonders, refuse to let things settle. I—”

“If you’re here to tell me how you ripped the love of my life away from me, just sod off. I don’t need to here you apologizing,” Sirius said rudely and turned back to his newspaper and muttered, “I will never forgive you.”

“Forgiveness is not what I seek, Sirius, simply comfort, for both of us, that you know the truth along with Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I am not asking for forgiveness, Sirius, I am simply hoping that you will allow me to tell you my mistakes.”

“Mistakes? That’s what you’re calling them?” Sirius said angrily. He looked up at Dumbledore, completely livid. “Your ‘mistakes’ cost everyone their lives! James, Lily, myself… Harry.”

“Then let me explain,” Dumbledore insisted.

“Sirius, I think we should listen to him,” Lupin said. “I’m angry just as you are but… it’s been twelve years. Shouldn’t we know what happened?”

“I know my story and I’m sticking to it,” Sirius said. He was silent for a moment before looking up at Dumbledore. “Though I will hear what you have to say.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said. He walked to the nearest seat and sat down. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. When he collected his thoughts he opened his eyes again to see that Sirius was watching him closely.

“I knew about James’s heritage since he was born,” Dumbledore began somberly. “I found out that Voldemort has gotten a witch pregnant, one of his pureblood follower’s wife or daughter, I unfortunately could not figure out which one. After the birth, Voldemort disposed of the entire family as he does with any tool who becomes useless to him. I feared for the child’s life, he was barely ten days old when I found him locked away in a cottage and spirited him to the Potters. They loved him instantaneously. They’ve tried so hard for a child but always failed. They named him James and gave him a loving home…

“But something always bothered me. I was worried, paranoid, that James would show characteristics of his father. Coldness, sadism, a want to harm and control. I checked in from time to time, and each time I was relieved to see that none of those characteristics appeared. He was warm, happy, and very much the opposite of his father. The only thing that connected James to his father was his Parseltongue, but I was not worried about that. The language has been gaining a horrible reputation because of Voldemort, I had thought that, maybe, James could be a step in the right direction, to show that there was nothing about the language that was to be feared. In fact, it actually proved to be very useful,” Dumbledore chuckled slightly. “It is because of James that I have learned to understand this rare language.

“As the years went by, it became clear to me that James did not have an ounce of his father’s cruelness in him, but still my fear remained irrationally. He was accepted in Hogwarts naturally, where he was sorted into Gryffindor along with yourself and Remus. There, I’ve kept a closer eye on him, just in case, I kept telling myself. But to my relief, he was proving to be nothing like his father. He was a mischief, a prankster, though naturally intelligent and caring. The last two I assume, were reasons on how both you and him became Animagi for Remus’s sake. I have learned that he has even fallen in love, something that Voldemort could not do.

“My fears were seemingly put to rest, and rightfully so. James was nothing like his father, I have concluded. Until I heard that he and you, Sirius, were researching the Dark Arts and looking into Voldemort. Every fear I had about James returned. I needed to know why he was looking into the Dark Arts, why he was asking about Voldemort. Years of watching him, observing him, making sure that he was as far away from his father as possible, and here he was seemingly slipping through my fingers. When I discovered that he was planning on changing his body, I have lost it. Though it was years later that I discovered that his actions was for his love to you, Sirius, I decided that I needed to act quickly.”

“You mean to tell me,” Sirius interrupted. “That you never knew what James was doing? What he was planning. For him, for us—that he was permanently changing his body so he could carry our child!?” He slammed a closed fist on the table next to him, causing his cup of coffee to jump. The noise woke the dog.

“No, I am sorry to admit that my fear and paranoia took the better of me again,” Dumbledore said. “During that time, all I knew was that he was researching about Voldemort, and body modification magics.”

“You actually thought that James would go with that sick bastard? That he would—that he would change his body to look like that monster or something?” Sirius demanded.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, Sirius—”

“You weren’t thinking at all, Dumbledore!” Sirius yelled.

“Sirius,” Lupin said. “I think we should listen to what else Dumbledore has to say.” Sirius turned to Lupin, his glare turning into an angry pout. Lupin gave a low whistle, and the dog ran to them, jumping onto Sirius’s lap. Lupin turned to Dumbledore and said, “Sorry Professor Dumbledore, please continue.”

Dumbledore and turned to look at Sirius, who was angrily stroking the dog’s mane. “It was not until years later that I have learned of James’ intentions with his womb,” he continued. “But in that moment of undeserved fear, I have acted without thought or consequence. You two were good friends with Lily Evens, I have thought that if I had him love someone else—distract his intentions, then his pursuit of the Dark Arts would end.”

“So you think it was _my_ fault that James wanted to learn about his father? That you think he was going to be a Dark Wizard?” Sirius demanded.

“Sirius, shut up. I’m sorry Professor, please continue.”

“No, you are right to be angry with me, Sirius, as are you, Remus,” Dumbledore said. “I have done a terrible crime against all of you. I have slipped love potions into James’ and Lily’s drinks. An easy matter in my position. I have lied and told the house elves it was simply medicine that the two hated but needed. Soon after that, they fell in love and James’ search for the Dark Arts and Voldemort was all but abandoned. I was surprised when, after graduation, they have joined the Order of Phoenix and married. The potion only affected their heart, not their minds. That was the first clue, the first time that I have thought I was wrong with my decision towards James. He seemed dedicated in his fight against Voldemort and his followers, too dedicated for it to be a product of the love potion.

“In my fear and paranoia of James figuring out who his true father was, the thought that he would hate Voldemort, that he would despise him, never came to existence. It was not a possibility that I could fathom during that time. I have thought to ask him about it, to see if he really did know the real truth. But I was hesitant to talk with him, and because of my hesitation, I would never know the truth from his lips. His father has found James… and killed him and Lily before I’ve got the chance to speak to him. Harry survived, and you were blamed for a crime you did not commit.

“I thought that that was the end of it. My mistakes would be buried and forgotten as time went on. But it didn’t. Harry found his way to Malfoy Manor, he became the Malfoy’s youngest son… and caused the pieces to fall in place to allow the truth of my mistakes to come to light. This time I had hoped that Harry would turn into his father rather his grandfather… I see in Harry my mistakes with James, and vowed never to repeat them again. My attempt to move Harry to the Weasleys was one last final move of stupid paranoia. The results of which, was something that I never anticipated. The Malfoys and Weasleys befriended again, even if it is only through Harry and Draco.

“… Like his father, Harry has proven that his only connection to Voldemort was his ability to speak to snakes. And my long-wrong paranoia was finally put to rest as Harry told me what happened in the dungeons of Hogwarts against himself and Voldemort. It was Harry, actually, who told me that the Dark spell James casted on himself was a pregnancy spell. And it was also Harry who asked me to come here and tell you the truth, Sirius. Though, I would hope you forgive an old man in delaying the inevitable for a summer.” Dumbledore leaned back looking rather misty-eyed. He took off her glasses and rubbed one of his eye. “And that, Sirius, is what I have come here to say.”

Dumbledore sat in his chair patiently. Sirius was crying silently, his hand just resting on his dog as he did so. Lupin was looking between the two awkwardly, his eyes downcast and a prominent frown on his face. Nobody talked for a long time. The dog fell asleep again on Sirius’s lap as the man continued to cry. At some point Lupin stood up silently and left the room, only to come back moments later with two cups of tea, giving Dumbledore one. They did not drink it, only held it between their hands as they watched Sirius cry, the man looking at the dog on his lap rather than either of them. Sirius’s silent cries turned to silent sniffles after a few moments, and he looked up at Dumbledore, his face red and puffy.

“James and I,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse, “we were going to get a house, yeah? Nothing big, just a nice family-sized house, and raise our kids in it. We always wanted two kids. Well… I have the house, and the kids… I love Harry and Draco so much… but it was all at the cost of the man I’ve loved for years.”

Dumbledore continued to be quiet. Sirius stared at Dumbledore, as if expecting him to say something, before looking back at the dog on his lap. “It’s all your fault,” he said bitterly. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Dumbledore said. “But it is because of my actions, both fortunately and unfortunately, that we are here. You may be heartbroken, but you have two boys, a godson and a nephew, to care for. Peter Pettigrew has been served justice… and now all past mistakes and wrongs have been brought to life.”

Sirius looked up at Dumbledore, a scowl on his face. Dumbledore calmly took a sip of his tea and returned Sirius’s look. “I am not looking for forgiveness, nor am I saying you are required to give it,” he said. “I am simply telling you the truth, you have past long deserved it.”

He stood up and placed his cup of tea on the table next to his seat. “I believe I will leave you to your thoughts. …I am sorry, Sirius, for all that I have done.”

Sirius looked up at him for a moment then looked away. “Get out,” he said softly.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said softly. He moved towards the doorway and turned back to look at Sirius and Lupin. “I am terribly sorry, for whatever horrors you both had to suffer through,” he said.

“I’ll walk him out,” Lupin said softly, standing up quickly. Sirius just barely nodded, he just continued to stare at the dog on his lap, too lost in thought. Too lost in thought, he barely noticed Remus leaving the room and coming back moments later. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to Lupin.

“Do you want me to walk Orion?” he asked.

“No, no, no, no,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “I’ll… I’ll do it.” He patted Orion and said, “Wake up boy, time for walkies.” The giant dog jumped up immediately and landed on the floor, looking at Sirius excitedly. Sirius stood up and looked at Lupin. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“Sirius… just think about what Dumbledore told us?” Remus said. “I know how hard it is but… I think he’s telling the truth.”

“I know he’s telling the truth Remus,” Sirius sighed. “I just… need time to think.”

“Okay,” Remus frowned.

Sirius whistled and waved his wand, a leash appearing. It connected with Orion’s collar, and the dog jumped, his tail wagging furiously. “We’ll be back… don’t wait up,” Sirius sighed. “Come on boy,” he tugged the leash lightly and the two walked out of the room, and a second later Remus heard the front door opening then closing again.

 

Theo did not believe Harry about his Parseltongue until the boy demonstrated it. When their carriage stopped in front of Hogwarts Castle, Theo was stunned silent. Draco and Blaise promised the small boy that they’ll make sure Theo will stay quiet, but for some reason Harry wasn’t scared of Theo telling others. Later that night he voiced his strange calmness to Tom, who surprisingly agreed. _“The Nott family seems trustful, at least the boy does,”_ the diary told Harry.

There weren’t any whispers or rumors about Harry the next morning, nobody was looking at him oddly, so he felt certain that Draco and Blaise were successful in keeping Nott quiet. He wanted to talk with Theo personally, but his schedule wouldn’t allow it as Harry saw he and the rest of the Gryffindors had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Professor Sprout, a stout witch who wore a patched hat and always had earth on her clothes, was waiting for them in front of greenhouse three. There were about twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs lying on a trestle bench in the middle of the greenhouse. “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

To no one’s surprise, Hermione’s hand shot into the air. “Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” Hermione said, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. “It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.”

“Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Sprout said. “The Mandrakes forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”

Hermione’s hand narrowly missed Harry’s glasses as it shot up again. “The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” she said promptly.

“Precisely. Take another ten points,” Professor Sprout said. “Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.”

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. Mrs. Malfoy had never allowed a Mandrake to grow in the Malfoy gardens, so Harry did not understand what Hermione meant by their “cry.” He supposed that they were going to be very, very loud.

Professor Sprout told the class to put on a pair of earmuffs. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly and pulled hard.

A small, muddy, extremely ugly baby was popped out of the earth. Professor Sprout took a large pot from underneath the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,” she said calmly. “However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their try by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. “Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Malfoy—do you go by Malfoy or Potter? The teachers seem to switch.”

“Malfoy… mostly,” Harry said. “Only Professor McGonagall uses my full name.”

“Ohh, well That Lockhart’s something, isn’t he?” Justin said happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. “Awfully brave man. Have you read his books? I’d died of fear if I’d been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and—zap—just _fantastic_. I have to learn how he keeps his teeth so clean, every time he smiles it’s like the lights are just reflecting off of them—

Harry snapped his earmuffs on, blocking out Justin’s raving. Professor Sprout had made it look easy. The mandrakes did not like coming out of their pots, nor do they want to go back into it either. They struggled, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in dirt. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

“You look awful,” Draco laughed as Harry took his seat next to his brother. “What happened?”

“Mandrakes,” Harry sighed. “Professor Sprout had us repot them.”

Draco laughed and smirked, “What? ‘ittle Harry was no match to a few plants?”

“Say that again and I’ll shove them in your bed,” Harry said, looking at Draco half-angrily. Draco’s smirk disappeared instantly.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Make me,” Harry growled. “They were these disgusting babies all green and leafy and kept trying to scratch me.”

“Sounds like fun,” Draco drawled.

“Just wait till you have to do it,” Harry said a bit bitterly. “Then you’ll see how much ‘fun’ it is.”

“Please Harry,” Draco whispered, “We both know that I can’t have fun without you around.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Professor McGonagall. She had them turn beetles into buttons, and Harry was surprised with himself to see that everything Professor McGonagall taught him did not seem to have leaked out of his mind. After he successfully transfigured his first one, he glanced at Draco to see that he had two buttons laying in front of him and a squirming third that still had legs.

When the lunch bell rang, Harry and Draco left together, Draco slipping his hand in Harry’s casually. “So, what class do you have next?” Harry asked.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Draco groaned. “We’re together, don’t worry.”

“We wouldn’t want one of us to suffer alone with him,” Harry joked. “What do you think he’ll actually teach us?”

“How to smile like a prat most likely,” Draco said. Harry laughed a little too hard, which caused Draco to stare at him.

“Sorry, just remembered a Hufflepuff I was paired with at Herbology. Loves Lockhart apparently and wants to learn how to smile like him,” Harry said.

“Poor delusional girl,” Draco sighed.

“Boy,” Harry corrected.

“Oh.”

They separated in the Great Hall as they ate lunch. When Harry finished his lunch, he followed Hermione and Ron out into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in _Voyage with Vampires_ as Harry and Ron talked Quidditch. Several minutes Harry had a feeling that he was closely being watched. He figured that it was Theo and turned around, expecting to see him, but instead it was a very small, mousy-haired boy who was staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked up at him, he went bright red.

“All, right Harry? I’m—I’m Colin Creevey,” he said breathlessly, take a tentative step forward. “I’m in Gryffindor, too. D’you think—would it be all right if—can I have a picture?” he said, raising the camera hopefully.

“A picture?”

“So I can prove I’ve met you,” Colin Creevey said eagerly, edging further forward. “I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to till you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move.” Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, “It’s amazing here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you”—he looked imploringly at Harry—“maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?”

“Signed pictures? Since when were you doing that, Malfoy?” Draco snarled in a cold voice. “First you got on the Daily Prophet and now you’re handing out _signed_ pictures? Really in the big league now, aren’t you?”

“You’re just jealous,” Colin piped up.

“ _Jealous?_ ” Draco said. “What for? I’m the superior Malfoy, after all I’m the more handsome one, right Harry?” Draco moved closer to Harry.

“Sod off,” Harry said, pushing Draco away. Colin looked at them confused and looking utterly lost.

“They’re brothers,” Hermione sighed. “Well adopted brothers… though they don’t act like it.”

“So how about it Harry?” Draco smirked. “If I ask really nicely will you give me a signed photo too?” Harry only answered with a glare, which caused Draco to laugh.

“What’s all this? What’s all this?” Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Harry started to speak but what cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulder and thundered jovially. “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”

Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry’s eyes shifted to Draco for help.

“Sir, can you let go of my brother—”

“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” Lockhart said loudly, the students in the courtyard looked at them and started crowding around. “A double portrait, can’t do better than that, and we’ll _both_ sign it for you.”

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes. Draco did his best to grab Harry and pull him from Lockhart, the two retreating into the castle as Harry threw Draco a glare.

“I tried to save you!” Draco said.

“No you weren’t, you were laughing!”

“No I wasn’t,” Draco insisted.

“Just hold my hand,” Harry sighed. Draco took it and brought Harry’s hand to his mouth, kissing it like he saw Uncle Geo do during the summer. Harry’s lips curled upwards slightly before he began to complain again. “I can’t believe that man! He just dragged me to another photo! Didn’t even ask me if I wanted to or not.”

“Well he seems the personality to do so,” Draco shrugged. “Just be glad that Mother and Father aren’t going to see this picture.”

“It will be mostly me struggling to get out of his grip,” Harry said a bit bitterly. _“Stupid foppish man.”_

“You seem a bit bolder with your hissing,” Draco said.

“I am?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “I remember last year you barely spoke it.. but now it’s speaking it like a second language.”

“I guess… I guess I’m just getting comfortable with it,” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what changed in me.”

“Anyway… I think it’s a good idea if we get to class before Lockhart does, I think he’ll try something flamboyant,” Draco said. Harry giggled and agreed with Draco. The two quickly made their way to the Defense classroom where a small queue was already forming. Lockhart appeared a moment later and Harry and Draco rushed in to sit all the way in the back, Blaise sitting on Harry’s other side.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. Harry did his best to slunk into his seat, but Lockhart saw him. “Harry! There’s the young rebel,” he said. “Why aren’t you sitting with your fellow Gryffindors?”

“Uhh… because I want to sit with my brother?” Harry said, pointing to Draco.

“Yes well… it is good of you to spread your fame, Harry,” Lockhart said smiling. “Now!” He reached forward and grabbed Blaise’s copy of _Year with the Yeti_ and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming Smile Award—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!”

“I doubt he did any of that,” Draco muttered to Harry, who snickered.

“I see you’ve all brought a complete set of my books—well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in—”

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes—start—now!”

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?
  2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?
  3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?



Confused, Harry looked over at Draco, who was already writing down answers. Harry leaned over slightly and read them: _Don’t care; to be relevant; learning to spell his name correctly._

Harry had to quickly place his hand on his mouth to stifle his laugh. Draco turned to Harry and smiled devilishly. He winked at Harry, sliding his test closer to the small boy so he could read Draco’s answers as he wrote them.

Half an hour later Harry had tears in his eyes as he bit his tongue, his entire body vibrating with fits of laughter. Draco, Harry guessed, had the same opinion on Lockhart that he had: the man was a flop. He almost forgot to even write on his own test, too busy trying not to laugh at Draco’s.

“Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wondering with Werewolves more carefully—I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples—though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey!

“…but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions—good girl! In fact”—he flipped her paper over—“full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”

Hermione raised a trembling hand. “Honestly,” Harry whispered, “that was the most useless test we’ve ever taken.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Draco said. “Though, this is going to be an awful year with him around.”

“I know… Sirius could be a better teacher, heck I bet even Orion could do better than him,” Harry said.

“I wouldn’t mind being taught by a dog,” Draco said. “Would be better than him.”

The sound of a cage brought Harry’s and Draco’s attention. They looked at the front of the classroom where Lockhart’s hand was on a sheet covering a large cage. He whipped off the cover and Harry laughed a little too loudly.

“Pixies?” he laughed.

“Yes! _Freshly caught Cornish pixies_ ,” Lockhart said dramatically.

Seamus Finnigan couldn’t control himself. He let out a snort of laughter along with Harry. “Well, they’re not—they’re not very _dangerous_ are they?” Seamus choked.

“Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart said, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. “They’re not that dangerous,” Harry said. “Our dog Orion chases them every day! They’re mostly harmless.”

“If you’re so sure, Harry,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” and he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed windows; within minutes half the class was sheltering under the desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

“Come on now—round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted.

“Only pixies—I’m going to take them and shove them up his nose!” Draco growled annoyingly. “What was that spell—Harry!”

“What?” Harry shouted in shock.

“What was that spell that stops things?” Draco asked.

“Oh!” Harry said. He shot up from under his desk and pointed his wand in the air. _“Immobulus Maxima!”_ he yelled. A flash of blue light leapt from his wand and all the pixies were suddenly frozen, floating helplessly in the air.

“Yes! Yes, good show Harry, good show,” Lockhart clapped. “Of course, I was going to do that a second later, yes…”

Harry and Draco started collecting the pixies and returned them to the cage, shooting angry looks at Lockhart. _“What a fop,”_ Harry hissed to his brother as they left the classroom, again hand-in-hand.


	6. First Dates

Chapter 6

First Date

Harry met Blaise in the entrance hall. On the way back to Gryffindor Tower after classes, he told Ron and Hermione that he has misplaced his diary somewhere. After denying their help countless times and reassuring them that he can find it on his own, Harry made his way to the entrance hall where Blaise was waiting.

“Hey Harry,” Blaise smiled.

“Hey Blaise,” Harry said.

“Ready to go?” Blaise asked. Harry nodded and they held hands as they stepped outside the castle. It was still a slightly overcast day, but every now and then the sun peaked through the clouds, giving a ray of light before disappearing again. “So, I just thought that we, you know, just hang out just the two of us. Is that okay?” Blaise asked.

“Lovely,” Harry said. “I could use a nice relaxing break from Lockhart.”

Blaise chuckled. “Yeah… that class was something. Good thing you and Draco remembered that freezing spell.”

“While Lockhart did nothing,” Harry said. “I swear if those things flew around for one more minute he was going to try something stupid, probably a made-up spell. Something like… like…”

“ _Peskipiksi Pesternomi!_ ” Blaise called out. Harry laughed and nodded, “Yeah, that!”

The two laughed, Blaise leading Harry to the Black Lake. They found a tree near the edge of the lake and sat down against it. “Besides Lockhart, how were the rest of your classes?” Blaise asked. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk with you, Draco hogged you all to himself.”

“Yeah, he’s like that,” Harry giggled. “Anyway my first day was good. We had to replant these weird tree babies called mandrakes. They were these disgusting baby-looking plants that wailed and screamed really loud. According to Professor Sprout, their wails can actually kill someone.”

“Neat, bet that was fun to listen to,” Blaise snickered.

“We had earmuffs on,” Harry shrugged. “And other then that class… you were in all my classes… oh! Get this, did you go outside during lunch?”

“No I didn’t, what happened?” Blaise asked.

“Well,” Harry said, moving his hands as he talked. “Let me tell you. Gryffindor has a new student, and he’s apparently a big fan of me.”

“Oh no,” Blaise chuckled. “Did he hug you or anything?”

“I wished he did just hug me! Instead he wanted pictures,” Harry said.

“Wrong thing,” Blaise chuckled.

“Yeah, he was cute however, a small mousy boy, even tinier than me! But he just jumps out at me, shocking me so much and talking so fast that I could barely keep up,” Harry said. “He asked for a signed photo of all things! Draco chose that moment to walk in and, well, acted like Draco. While was horrible because Lockhart heard him—”

“Oh god,” Blaise moaned, though he had a giant smile on his face.

“—and he came towards us. I looked for Draco to help, but he was useless, and Lockhart held me down as Creevey took the picture, saying that we both will sign it,” Harry finished.

“Wow… Lockhart’s got an interest for you,” Blaise said.

“An interest that I don’t want,” Harry grumbled.

Blaise reached for Harry’s hand and squeezed it gently. “If I asked… would you take a picture with me?” he asked.

“What?”

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” Blaise shrugged. “All these talks of pictures… makes me a bit jealous.”

“You really want a picture?” Harry asked.

Blaise shrugged. “You don’t have to do it, just thought that, well, since we’re hanging out together just the two of us in a long time… we might want to remember it?”

Harry smiled. He nudged Blaise softly and said, “You just want a picture of our first date.”

“You think this is a date?” Blaise gasped.

“It isn’t?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side. Blaise nodded quickly, and Harry smiled. “Then we should take a picture of it. I wouldn’t mind about this one.”

Blaise smiled and jumped to his feet. “Come on, then,” He said. “Let’s go find a camera!”

“Alright,” Harry smiled. He got up and quickly held Blaise’s hand as the two ran back towards the castle. They ran through the courtyard in front of the doors, zipping between students and through the great wooden doors. “Let’s go up!” Harry said and the two turned towards the marble staircase, running up. They paid little attention to where they were running, both enjoying the wind blowing through their hair as they climbed higher and higher, their hands squeezing tighter and tighter.

Corridor through corridor the two ran around holding hands. The thought of the camera slipped their minds easily as they just enjoyed running with each other, Harry letting out a little laugh as their footsteps thundered through the halls. “Malfoy! Zabini!” a harsh voice yelled out.

The two skidded to a halt and turned to see Professor McGonagall frowning at them both. “There is no running in the corridors! Five points from each of you.”

“Sorry, Professor,” both boys said, though they grinned at each other when she turned around. They walked down the corridor and found another staircase. “Let’s actually go and find a picture this time,” Blaise said.

“I think one of the Weasleys might have one,” Harry said. “Let’s ask them.” The two ran up the staircase and through a nearby secret passage that led them to the seventh floor. Harry pulled Blaise towards the portrait of the Fat Lady and stopped. “You should wait out here, I’ll ask them,” he said. “I don’t think they’ll be happy with two Slytherins being able to come in here, so cover your ears.”

Blaise chuckled but complied, putting his hands over his ears. Harry went up to the Fat Lady and said, “Wattlebird.” The portrait swung open and Harry stepped through it and into the common room. It was filled with Gryffindors doing homework. Harry looked around and saw Ron and Hermione. He ran up to them and looked at Ron. “Ron! I have a question,” he said.

“Harry! Did you find your diary?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, uh actually, I’m wondering if you or your brothers have a camera I can borrow,” Harry said.

“Why do you want a camera?” Ron frowned.

“Oh um… personal reasons?” Harry said. Ron and Hermione stared at him for a moment. “Blaise and I…” Harry admitted.

“Oh. Um. I don’t know… George has one but…”

“I’ll ask him, thanks,” Harry smiled. He turned around and quickly located a rarely lone Lee Jordan. “Lee!” he called out, running towards him.

“Hiya Harry, whatcha want?” Lee asked.

“Do you know where the twins are? I have to ask George something,” Harry said.

“Oh they’re in the dorms… I think,” Lee said, Harry was already moving towards the spiral staircase as soon as Lee finished talking.

“Thank you!” Harry rushed before running up the stairs and into the fourth year dormitories where he did indeed found Fred and George kneeling in a corner. “George!” Harry said, getting their attention.

“Hi Harry, what are you doing in here?” George asked as the two turned to look at him.

“No time to explain, but do you have a camera I can borrow?” Harry asked.

“Thinking of handing out more signed photos?” Fred smirked.

“No. I’m not,” Harry said shortly. “I just want to borrow your camera.”

“Sure thing, it’s in my trunk,” George said, pointing to it. Harry smiled and went to look in it, moving George’s clothes out of the way, as well as a strange pink skinny tube that vibrated in Harry’s hand. He found the camera on the bottom and took it. “Is this one that develops the photo instantly?” he asked.

“Yeah, just hand it back in one piece, and I have to see the photos,” George said.

“Alright, thanks,” Harry said and he rushed out of the room, the camera in his hands.

“I got it!” He smiled triumphantly, holding the camera in the air in front of Blaise as the portrait closed behind him.

“Good, then let’s get going,” Blaise said. He took Harry’s hand again and pulled him away from Gryffindor tower, down the marble staircases, and back outside into the slightly sunny day. The two ran back to the tree they were sitting at and leaned back down. Blaise moved real close to Harry, their shoulders bumping into each other, as they both held out the camera. “On the count of three,” Blaise said. “One, two, three!”

Harry felt Blaise’s lips on his cheek as soon as the flash went off. The picture slid out of the slot and onto their laps. Harry took it and after a few waves looked at the picture of Blaise kissing Harry’s cheek, the small Gryffindor smiling.

“One more,” Harry said. “And no kissing this time.”

“Alright, alright,” Blaise chuckled. They held the camera together again and Blaise counted. When he said two, Harry turned his head towards Blaise and as soon as he heard three, he kissed Blaise’s cheek, a bright flash capturing their picture. “I thought you said no more kissing,” Blaise chuckled.

“Just wanted to get back at you,” Harry smirked. “Do you know how to make these pictures move?”

“I think so,” Blaise said.

“Good! Let’s take more!” Harry smiled. He pulled the camera out of Blaise’s hand and jumped up. He turned around and, aiming the camera at Blaise, said, “Did your uncle teach you how to pose?”

“Nope,” Blaise said. He smiled widely and made an outrageous pose, spreading his legs and placing his hands on his hips. Harry laughed and said, “You look like Parkinson when she’s angry!”

“Harry! Don’t insult me like that,” Blaise laughed as Harry took a couple pictures. Harry smiled behind the camera as Blaise leapt forward. “Hey! My turn now,” Blaise said.

Harry gave him the camera and Blaise got a sly smirk on his face. “I want you… against the tree,” he said.

“Okay,” Harry said. He leaned against the tree and allowed Blaise to adjust his arms high into the air as if trying to reach a branch. Blaise took a step back, frowned, then began to move Harry’s body again, trying to make him bend in odd ways. “I’m ticklish there—s-stop!” Harry laughed.

Blaise took a picture of Harry laughing, the photograph falling out of the slip and onto the ground. Blaise bent to pick it up and Harry pounced on the bent boy, laughing as he hugged from the back. Blaise took another series of pictures of the two, Harry kissing Blaise’s cheek in a few of them.

“Okay… I think we have enough,” Blaise smiled, looking at the small pile of photos laying on the grass.

“Yeah, I think we got some great pictures,” Harry said. Blaise bent down to pick up the stack of photographs as Harry held the camera. The two returned to their tree and sat down against it. Harry placed the camera between them and the two started looking at the pictures.

Harry couldn’t help but blush lightly at the photos of him and Blaise playfully kissing each other’s cheeks. Now that he knew what kisses were meant for, something that Blaise taught him late in their First Year, Harry has been hesitant to kiss anyone. But he had to admit that he and Blaise looked cute together. Especially in one of the later photos where Harry was riding Blaise’s back.

“I think George said something like he has to see the photos,” Harry said. “Maybe he knows how to make that potion so our photos can move.”

“That would be nice,” Blaise smirked. “I can have a big photo of you kissing me for everyone to see.”

“No.”

“I was only joking, calm down Harry,” Blaise laughed. “Come on, let’s give the Weasley twins back their camera. Heaven forbids Lockhart sees us with it.”

“Please don’t mention him, I don’t think I can survive another encounter,” Harry groaned. They got up and held hands again. “Do you need an escort to the dungeons?” Harry asked cheekily.

“I should be asking you that,” Blaise said. “Come on… ‘wife.’” He laughed as Harry glared at him, the two returning to the castle.

The two went down to the dungeons first, stopping in front of the stone wall that led into the Slytherin common room. There, they split their pile of photos in half before saying goodbye, Blaise earning one last glare as he called Harry his ‘wife’ again. Harry quickly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower and returned George’s camera. Without waiting for the twins to pester him about the photos, Harry instead ran back to his own dormitory and quickly took out his diary.

_“I’m sorry for not writing sooner Tom, but I just finished having a date with Blaise,”_ Harry wrote. He watched his words disappear into the page and waited for Tom’s response to come.

_“You had a date? Interesting, what did you do my little snake?”_ Tom asked. _“Do I have any reasons to be jealous?”_

_“No, no reasons at all. We talked and took a lot of pictures,”_ Harry wrote. _“Some of them has me and Blaise kissing each other!”_

_“Kissing? Interesting. Tell me more about your day,”_ Tom’s words commanded.

Harry smiled as he dipped his quill in his ink bottle and began to tell Tom all about his day. He did not know how long he talked with Tom, outside the sky changed unnoticed and for some reason Harry didn’t feel any need to leave his chair either out of hunger or needing to use the bathroom. He just sat there, talking to Tom, as if the words were slowly anchoring him to his seat like a hypnotic spell casted over Harry. He only stopped when Ron touched his shoulder and he jerked.

Harry looked around confused, seeing that it was already nighttime. “What happened?” Harry asked. _Where did the time go?_ He thought.

“It’s late mate, you didn’t show up for dinner,” Ron said.

“I… didn’t? But I was just writing in my diary for a few minutes…”

“Well, it was more than a few minutes, Harry,” Ron said.

“Oh…”

“You hungry?”

“No, not at all… I think I’ll go to bed though,” Harry said. He closed the diary and placed it under his pillow like always. He then changed into his pajamas, still utterly confused as he wondered where the time went, and went to bed.

 

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry’s schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, “All right, Harry?” six or seven times a day and hear,” Hello, Colin,” back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.

Harry was looking forward to the weekend. He, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry tried to rope Draco into visiting as well, but the older boy refused outright saying he would rather sit in the common room with his book (Mrs. Malfoy has sent them both new books that she thought they might enjoy. Draco gotten a new book about dragons while Harry has gotten the latest _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , as well as both receiving a letter from her saying that Sirius appeared at their house crying frantically on the morning of September 1st). Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Whssamatter?” Harry said groggily.

“Quidditch practice!” Wood said. “Come on!”

“Don’t wanna…” Harry croaked as he looked out the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. “It’s the crack of dawn, Oliver.”

“Exactly,” Wood said, his eyes gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. “It’s part of our new training program. Com on, grab your broom, and let’s go. None of the other teams have started training yet; we’re going to be first off the mark this year—”

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

“Good man,” Wood said. “Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes.”

When he’d found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he’d gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. Harry started to feel somewhat awake when he reached the changing rooms; though he quickly noticed that Oliver Wood was the only one really awake.

Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

“There you are Harry, finally,” Wood said briskly. “Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…”

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, George Weasley’s head drooped right onto Harry’s shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took twenty minutes to explain, but there was a second one underneath, then a third. Harry sunk into a stupor as Wood droned on.

“So,” Wood said at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. “Is that clear? Any questions?”

“I’ve got a question, Oli,” George said, who had woken with a start. “Why couldn’t you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?”

Wood wasn’t pleased.

“Now, listen here you lot,” he said, glowering at all of them .”We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We’re easily the best team. But unfortunately—owing to circumstances beyond out control—”

“Sorry for saving the world,” Harry chimed in.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat, which Harry heard was the worst defeat in three hundred years, was clearly still torturing him.

“So this year, we train harder than ever before. …Okay let’s go and put our new theories into practice!” Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker room. Stiff-legged and yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Draco sitting in the stands with Ron and Hermione.

“You finish yet?” Draco called out.

“Didn’t even start,” Harry said, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. “Wood’s been teaching us new moves.”

“Hey! Get that Slytherin out of here!” Wood yelled as Harry mounted his broom. Harry looked and saw that he was pointing at Draco. “He’s a spy!”

“No, he isn’t, he’s my brother,” Harry said.

“Still he’ll tell the Slytherins about our new training program,” Wood said.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Harry insisted. Wood frowned, looking totally unconvinced. Harry groaned and pulled his broom towards the stands. “Are you spying on us?” he asked Draco.

“Why would I? I just saw that you weren’t at your table and followed those two,” Draco said, pointing to Ron and Hermione.

“Told him,” Harry sighed. “Just… tell that Wood that I told you not to tell the Slytherins or else I’ll… I don’t know, just pick a spell.”

“Alright,” Draco shrugged.

The Quidditch practice was exhausting. With an empty stomach, Harry barely managed to concentrate on any of the tasks Wood gave him as the sixth year ordered Harry to do several tricks and loops as he chased the Snitch. When lunchtime arrived, Harry was starved, he barely paid attention to the food he was eating, more concerned about getting it into his stomach.

After lunch, He, Ron, and Hermione went down towards Hagrid’s and stayed with him till dinner. Harry figured that he will visit the Slytherin common room after dinner, just to talk with his brother for a while.

He followed a group of sixth year Slytherins down to the dungeons, deciding to keep a small distance from them. When they reached the stone wall that served as the Slytherin entrance, Harry listened in as they said, “Pureblood” and stepped into the opening hole. Harry moved towards the stone wall, but a voice stopped him.

“Ahh Harry! I was hoping to catch you soon, sneaking around aren’t you boy? You’ll get in trouble of old Snape caught you here.”

To his horror, Harry turned around to see the smiling face of Professor Lockhart. “What are you doing down here in these dusty dungeons anyway?” he asked.

“I was visiting my brother…”

“Ahh that’s good,” Lockhart said. “I can actually use your help now, you can always visit your brother any old time, but how often can you spend personal time with your favorite professor Harry?” He grabbed Harry’s arm and led him away from the Slytherin common room and out of the dungeons. “I was here myself looking for old Snape, see if he’ll accept some helpful advice from one potion master to another—did you know that I have discovered an entirely new Potion Ingredient that I use in my hair potions? What am I saying, of course you have, I have written all about it in _Travels with Trolls._ Ah, here we are now.”

Lockhart has dragged Harry all the way to his office on the second-floor corridor. Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile on his desk.

“You can help me with my fan mail by addressing the envelopes!” Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat. “This first one’s to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her—huge fan of mine—”

The minutes snailed by. Harry let Lockhart’s voice wash over him, occasionally saying “Mmm” and “Right” and “Yeah.” Harry tried to escape, but Lockhart gave him no opening, the man never ceasing to talk. Now and then he caught a phrase like, “Fame’s a fickle friend, Harry,” or “Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that.”

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley’s address. _Why am I still here? Why am I even here in the first place?_ Harry thought grimly.

And then he heard something—something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart’s prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

_“Come… come to me. …Let me rip you. …Let me tear you. …Let me kill you. …”_

Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley’s street.

“What?” he said loudly.

“I know!” Lockhart said. “Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!”

“No,” Harry said frantically. “That voice!”

“Sorry?” Lockhart said, looking puzzled. “What voice?”

“That—that voice that said—you didn’t hear it?”

Lockhart looked at Harry in high astonishment. “What _are_ you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you’re getting a little drowsy? Great Scott—look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! I’d never have believed it—the time’s flown, hasn’t it? Well since you’ve been a good sport I’ll give Gryffindor a Point or two. Shame you weren’t in Ravenclaw Harry, that was my house you know—”

Harry didn’t answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart. Feeling confused, Harry left.

_There is no possible way that was a snake,_ Harry thought to himself. _The snakes I talk to never sounded like that… but then how couldn’t Lockhart hear it and I could? It could be that his own talking was blocking it out, but still that makes no sense…_

The Gryffindor common room was practically empty when Harry went in it, so he just went to his dormitory. There he told Ron about his forced stay with Lockhart, deciding to keep silent about the strange voice that he heard. Maybe he’ll be able to find a snake somewhere around the castle and talk to it, try to compare it’s voice to the creepy voice later. He thought about telling Tom, but he felt too tired as he climbed into his bed, his hand going under his pillow for his diary. He frowned when he touched it. It was a bit damp for some reason.

“Must’ve been sweating on it,” Harry mutter to himself. “Sorry Tom.”

Shrugging it off, he returned the diary under his pillow and laid his head, falling to sleep immediately where he dreamed of him and Blaise flying on dragons while a giant camera took pictures of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I take a moment to shamelessly plug my newest story? It's a challenge I gave to myself: Write a story that is less than 40k words. AND I DID! It's called Love Happens, a nice sweet cheesy romance between Harry and Draco in a world of no magic. 2 out of 6 parts are already up, and I am updating that daily until the whole story is up! So if you can, please check it out and leave a comment. Believe me, the finale will leave you all slack-jawed.


	7. Blood on the Wall

Chapter 7

Blood on the Wall

October arrived, spending a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Draco had to bully Harry into drinking it after seeing how pale Harry looked.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood’s enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across Draco Malfoy, who was leaning against the wall waiting for him. “Had a nice playdate in the rain?” Draco smirked.

“Shut up,” Harry muttered. “You try practicing Quidditch in the pouring rain and not able to see clearly.”

“No thank you, I like my glasses nice and dry thank you very much,” Draco said, tapping a finger to the side of his glasses. “Did you get a letter from mother and father?”

“Yeah… but I didn’t read it yet,” Harry said.

“Why not?” Draco frowned.

“Just didn’t,” Harry shrugged. “Why, what is it about?”

“Mother… she is thinking of cancelling the Christmas party this year, and she is planning on having Christmas with just herself and father,” Draco said.

“She is?”

“Yes… she even sent several letters to all of her friends, to which she gotten…” Draco pulled out a letter and cleared his throat dramatically, “’several annoyed and angry responses asking why I have decided to make this audacious decision.’ The only one who agreed with Mother’s decision, besides father surprisingly, was Uncle Sirius who wrote back, ‘then who am I going to give the Christmas fruitcakes to?’”

Harry snickered but frowned quickly. “What are they going to do? Do you think they’re going to argue the whole holiday away…or is father…”

“No, no, I don’t think he’s trying to push you away Harry,” Draco said quickly.

“Then why do they want to spend Christmas alone together?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, they just do,” Draco said. “Anyway, how was your practice? Besides wet and dirty.” Draco laughed as Harry gave him a sour look. “I take it that it was horrible then.”

“Oh believe me, we’ll beat Slytherin easily,” Harry smirked. “Just don’t like the weather.”

“As if!” Draco laughed. “If you haven’t forgotten, Gryffindor _lost_ the Quidditch cup last year.”

“Only because we were too busy with my grandfather,” Harry said, “and I was stuck in the Hospital Wing.”

“Of course that’s the reason,” Draco laughed.

“Draco—I uh need to tell you something,” Harry said seriously, as his mind was stuck on his grandfather for a moment.

“What is it?” Draco asked.

“I heard a… well I heard a voice a while ago,” Harry frowned. “A voice that Lockhart didn’t hear.”

“When was this?” Draco frowned.

“Weekend of the first week here,” Harry said.

“And you’re only telling me this now?” Draco said, sounding a little angry. Harry gave him a bashful look as the blonde crossed his arms. “Harry Malfoy what are you thinking!”

“I don’t know! I just wanted to… think on it some more,” Harry said.

Draco gave a frustrated sigh. “What happened? Why were you alone with Lockhart anyway?”

“He roped me into helping him with his fan mail,” Harry said with a scowl. “I was there for four hours addressing letters. Near the end of it, I heard a voice… it was cold, murderous… I don’t know what it is. Lockhart couldn’t hear it at all, but I guess that’s just because he kept prattling on about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I thought it was Parseltongue, but I’ve never heard it like that. And I couldn’t find any snakes around here to try and compare voices. And I can’t really compare it to my own voice, can I? ‘Cause I just sound like I’m hissing in my normal voice!”

“That can be difficult,” Draco chuckled.

“I know!” Harry said.

“Have you heard the voice again after that?” Draco asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Harry said. “But believe me, it is something not really forgettable.”

Draco frowned and started pacing the corridor. Harry watched him for a moment. Draco’s eyes looked strained behind his glasses, his lips puckered in a thoughtful expression, eyebrows furrowing. Harry did not know how long they stood there in the corridor but suddenly Draco stopped. He turned to Harry and smiled a little madly. “Well then,” he said. “If you can’t find a snake, we’ll simple… summon one.”

“What are you talking about Draco?”

“Summon a snake,” Draco said. “There has to be a spell about it somewhere.”

“Even if it exists, it’s probably too complicated for us to perform now,” Harry sighed.

“Nonsense,” Draco said smugly. “I’ll show you I can do it.” Harry let out an unconvinced snort and rolled his eyes. “Oh, you look like that now, but just wait till I find the spell.”

Harry just chuckled and smiled at his adoptive brother. “Sure Draco,” he said. “Now, if you excuse me… I need a bath.”

 

Harry has forgotten about Draco’s promise when Halloween came around. Instead he was too busy with a personal problem. On Halloween morning Harry woke up with his hands wet and feathers on his bed. He had no idea where the feathers came from or how his hands became so wet. He knew that they weren’t his pillow feathers for they were too big for that, as well as too dirty. They stunk of dirt and earth that Harry needed to take a couple of baths to get the smell off of him.

The Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid’s vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

Harry was a little disappointed to find that there were no dancing skeletons, but still he, Ron, and Hermione have enjoyed Hogwarts’ fantastic feast. Harry felt like he ate too much during the feast and suddenly felt tired. It was not time for desert, and Harry felt both bloated and tired, so he stood up from his bench.

“Where you going? It’s not over yet,” Ron said.

“I’m feeling tired,” Harry said, giving Ron a regrettable look, “and I think I ate too much.”

“Alright,” Ron shrugged.

“Want us to go with you?” Hermione asked.

“No, I’m good, I’m just going to sleep,” Harry said. “See you later.”

Harry walked away from the Gryffindor table towards the double doors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco standing up and sighed, having a feeling that Draco would follow him.

“Anything the matter?” Draco asked as they walked into the entrance hall.

“Just ate too much, I’m fine,” Harry shrugged. “Just going to sleep.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Draco said, he started walking towards the marble staircase.

“What?”

“Pansy’s being annoying, I’m starting to get a bit of a headache actually,” Draco said. “So, a nice, quiet walk with my brother will be just the thing to fix it. Come on.”

Harry shrugged and followed Draco up the stairs.

“Was it the turkey that you ate too much of? Or the sausage?” Draco asked, smirking at his own joke.

“I ate everything,” Harry said with a small shrug. They stepped on the first step of the staircase when Harry heard it.

_“…rip…tear…kill…”_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart’s office. He stumbled to a halt, clutching at he stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down.

“Harry, what are you—?”

“It’s that voice again—shut up will you—”

“ _…soo hungry …for so long…”_

“Listen!” Harry said urgently and Draco froze, watching him.

_“…kill …time to kill…”_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away—moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn’t matter?

“This way,” he shouted, and he began to run up the marble staircase to the first floor. Draco clattering behind him.

“Harry—”

“SHH!”

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice _“…I smell blood …I SMELL BLOOD!”_

His stomach lurched. “It’s going to kill someone!” he shouted, and ignoring Draco’s bewildered face, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps—

Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Draco panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

“Harry what has gotten into you?” Draco panted, doubling over his knees as he fixed his glasses. “I did not hear anything—what?” He pointed down the corridor.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

“What…what is that?” Draco asked, his voice quivering as he pointed to something underneath it.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slip—there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Draco grabbed him and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. The two realized what it was at once, and leapt back with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Draco said, “Harry we have to go, we can’t be found here.”

“But shouldn’t we try and help?”

“No, trust me, we need to go— _now!_ ” Draco stressed.

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry and Draco stood alone in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Harry found he couldn’t move his body, his legs and arms stiffened up as if petrified by the crowds’ eyes.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on? Why’s no one moving?”

Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” he shrieked and his eyes fell on Harry. “You!” he screeched. “You! You murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll—”

_“Argus!”_

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry and Draco and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. “Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You too, Mr. and Mr. Malfoy.”

Lockhart sprung forward eagerly. “My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—”

“Thank you Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professor McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles of his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mr. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry and Draco looked at each other nervously, reaching out for the other’s hand as they sat down.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long gingers gently prodding and poking, Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions that Harry ignored.

Harry leaned forward to Draco, his eyes shifting towards Mrs. Norris. “You didn’t hear the voice at all?”

“No, I haven’t Harry,” Draco frowned. “I did not hear anything…”

“Then do you think it really could have been a—”

“Harry think for a moment, how can a snake do this? How can a snake move around the castle like this?” Draco whispered.

“I don’t know…” Harry frowned. “But how else can you explain me hearing it and you not?”

Draco shrugged, not knowing the answer. At last, Dumbledore straightened up.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” he said shortly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the murders he had prevented.

“Not dead?” Flich chocked, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. “But why’s she all—all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” Dumbledore said. (“Ah! I thought so! Lockhart said). “But how, I cannot say…”

“Ash him! Filch shrieked, turning his blotched and tearstrained face to Harry.

“No second year could have done this,” Dumbledore said firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—”

“If I might speak, Headmaster, the Malfoys may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time… However, I would like to wonder though… what is it the Malfoys were doing in the corridor while the rest of the school was at the feast,” Snape interjected.

“Wasn’t hungry,” Harry muttered.

“Wasn’t hungry?” Snape repeated, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight.

“No.” Harry and Snape glared at each other.

“My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieked, looking furious. “I want to see some _punishment!_ ”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.” He turned to Harry and Draco. “You may go.”

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart’s office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his brother’s darkened face.

“D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?”

“No,” Draco said. “Hearing voices isn’t normal. Even if we think it might be a snake, only Dumbledore knows that you can speak Parseltongue. I don’t think it would be a good idea of the other professors know.”

“But what if it was a snake?” Harry asked. “If I’m the only one who can hear it, maybe I can—”

“NO!” Draco bellowed. “Don’t you even _say_ it Harry!”

“But Draco—”

“You are not going to search after whatever caused this! I refuse! Last year was bad enough with your grandfather trying to kill you! You are not going to risk your life twice in a row,” Draco yelled.

“It’s my life I’ll be risking, not yours, you don’t have to do anything—”

“No!” Draco yelled again. “You are not going to do anything!”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you damn it!” Draco screamed. His fists stared shaking with uncontrolled fury. “I love you Harry and I will not allow you to do anything that’ll get yourself killed—again!”

“I’m not going to get myself killed, if it’s a snake I can talk to it—”

“And why do you think it’ll listen? Hmm? Why should a murderous snake listen to a tiny twelve year old? Tell me that Harry,” Draco demanded.

“Because… because I’m Slytherin’s descendant? That should hold some weight, yeah?” Harry said.

Draco gave a frustrated groan. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulder, “Harry… I rather we forget that kind of stuff. You speaking Parseltongue is cool, very cool, but can we keep it at that?”

Harry frowned but nodded. “Fine… we’ll keep it at that,” he sighed. “But Draco… I have to ask… what do you think the message on the wall meant? _The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened_ … what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know,” Draco frowned. “Though… it does sound familiar. Maybe father told us about it long ago?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry frowned. “Though… if it was a snake I can’t think of any snake that can _petrify_ things like that! They mostly just kill.”

“Strange…” Draco sighed. “But don’t think about it too much, please? If not for your health, then at least mine.”

“How can me looking for the voice affect your health?” Harry asked in a deadpan tone.

“Because, my loving brother, whenever _you_ get in trouble… _I_ get roped into it one way or another,” Draco said in a falsely sweet voice. “So, be a nice younger brother and listen to me. Go to sleep. Just go to sleep and _try_ to keep your noise out of it.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed. “But… there’s one more thing I need to talk to you about.”

A clock chimed somewhere.

“Midnight, let’s talk as we head to Gryffindor Tower, I don’t trust you tonight,” Draco said, and they left the classroom.

“It’s nothing major, just that when I woke up this morning there were feathers on my bed, large white feathers, and my hands were wet,” Harry said.

“Someone’s must be pranking you,” Draco shrugged.

“That’s what I’m thinking also,” Harry said. “Anyway, let’s go.”

 

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back.

The attack also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry and Ron get much response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they found out.

It was in the middle of Transfiguration when Hermione raised her hand.

“Yes Miss Granger, do you have a question or problem?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes… I know it’s not in your subject area but… I was hoping you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione said.

The rest of the class stopped their work immediately and turned towards Hermione before looking at Professor McGonagall excitedly. Professor McGonagall held a disapproved expression as she looked around. “Very well. As you all well know, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four founders whom the Houses were named after: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out students who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be education. Until a rift started to appear between Salazar Slytherin and the others. Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students who attend Hogwarts. He believed that magic should be kept within all magic families. In other words, purebloods. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school. Now according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though shortly before departing, he sealed it until the time when his own true heir returned to the school.

“The heir alone would be able to open the chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing, purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin’s view, were unworthy to study magic.”

“Muggleborns,” Hermione said.

“Well naturally the school has been searched many times. No such chamber has been found,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Professor…” Hermione said hesitantly. “What do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?”

“Well, the chamber is said to be the home… of a monster,” Professor McGonagall said. “And that is the last I will speak of it. Back to your assignments, all of you.”

Harry felt suddenly hot between the ears. A huge wave of regret flooded into him as he chose today to sit with his brother on the Slytherin side of the classroom. He could feel eyes staring at him, judging him, and he wanted nothing to do but to disappear in his chair. He looked over at Draco and saw that Draco too was staring at him, but while the other eyes were weary, cautious looks, Draco was looking at Harry with eyes full of worriment and concern. Draco’s lips moved, mouthing out ‘Heir of Slytherin’ and Harry didn’t need Draco to talk to know what he was thinking about.


	8. Harry Gets a Clue

Chapter 8

Harry Gets a Clue

Harry was only somewhat good at keeping secrets from Draco. This was one of his secrets. He, Ron, and Hermione turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch basket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message “The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened.”

“That’s where Filch has been keeping guard,” Ron muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted. “Right, can’t hurt to have a poke around, can it? Just don’t tell Draco,” Harry said, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

“Scorch marks!” he said. “Here—and here—”

“Come and look at this!” Hermione said. “This is funny. …”

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

“Have you ever seen spiders act like that?” Hermione said wonderingly.

“No,” Harry said, “have you, Ron?”

He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run. “What’s up?” Harry asked.

“I—don’t—like—spiders,” Ron said tensely.

“I never knew that,” Hermione said, looking at Ron in surprise. “You use spiders all the time in Potions…”

“I don’t mind them dead,” Ron said, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. “I just don’t like the way they move. …”

Hermione giggled.

“It’s not funny,” Ron said fiercely. “If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my—my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick. …You wouldn’t like them either if you’d been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…”

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh. Harry, deciding they were getting off track, said, “Where did all the water that was here came from? Filch must have mopped it up.”

“It was leveled with that door,” Ron said, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch’s chair and pointing. He reached for the doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“We can’t go in there! That’s a girl’s toilet,” Ron said gruffly.

“Oh, Ron, there won’t be anyone in there,” Hermione said standing up and coming over. “That’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on, let’s have a look.”

And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders.; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

“What happened here?” Harry couldn’t help but ask as he looked around.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, “Hello Myrtle, how are you?”

Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle, a squat ghost of a girl with the gloomiest face Harry had ever seen, was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

“This is a _girls’_ bathroom,” she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. “ _They’re_ not girls.”

“We just want to know if you saw anything that night,” Harry said quickly.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Myrtle said dramatically. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m—that I’m—”

“Already dead,” Ron said helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, “Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle. …Come on, let’s go.”

Harry had a thoughtful expression on his face as he thought to himself, _Maybe I should ask Tom. Maybe he’ll know something about the Chamber of Secrets._

Though Harry did continue his nightly talks with Tom, he had not once mentioned anything about the strangeness he was experiencing in his bed nor the Chamber of Secrets. That night, Harry made sure that he, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in a far-off corner, so they couldn’t be overheard. “Who can it be though?” Harry asked, “Who could be the Heir of Slytherin?”

“Who wants all the Squibs and Muggleborns out of Hogwarts?” Hermione said in a quiet voice.

“Besides half of Slytherin?” Ron said mockingly.

“It can’t be them, there’s no way,” Harry frowned. “None of them can’t be the Heir of Slytherin.”

“And why not?” Ron asked.

“Their families don’t go back that far,” Harry said. “When I was young, father and Mum made me and Draco memorize all pureblood family trees. It was exhausting and damn near useless but… none of them directly connected to Slytherin.” Harry frowned one moment but jumped up the next. “I think I just remembered something!”

“What is it?”

“Something that Tom told me—I need to make sure,” Harry said quickly and he dashed off to the boy’s dormitory, Ron and Hermione running after him. It was thankfully empty, so Harry pulled Tom’s Diary from under his pillow (“That’s where you hide it?” Ron snorted) and all but slammed it onto the nearby desk.

Hastily grabbing a quill and ink, Harry wrote in big sloppy letters: _“TOM! I need you to tell me something important! A long time ago you told me that Parseltongue was Slytherin’s gift what did you mean by that?”_

The ink slowly seeped into the page and Harry couldn’t help but tap the desk impatiently as he waited for Tom’s response. He looked nervously towards Hermione and Ron, who were bent over his shoulders. As soon as Harry’s sloppy writing disappeared, Tom’s neat handwriting replaced it.

_“What I meant, Harry, is simply this: Parseltongue is a gift passed on from father to son. It is hereditary and the people who does speak Parseltongue have a direct familial connection to Salazar Slytherin. Tell me, what has happened recently that you need to ask me this? As of late, you’ve kept our talks away from current events.”_

Hermione gave an audible gasp as she looked between Harry and the diary. Harry’s hands trembled as his face paled. He turned to look in horror at Ron and Hermione. Ron’s face was whiter than paper, his nose scrunched up in confusion and Hermione had her hands covering her mouth. “I’m the… I’m the Heir of Slytherin,” Harry breathed out. “But I don’t remember—I never once touched Mrs. Norris.”

“Then…” Ron said slowly, still looking deeply confused. “Someone’s… pretending to be you?”

Harry nodded,” I think so…”

“But why? How would they know, how would they even…” Hermione began to frown. “Are we sure this book is reliable Harry?”

“He hasn’t been wrong so far,” Harry said. Hermione still had a doubtful expression on her face.

“What do we do now?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know…” Hermione said.

“We have to find out who’s pretending to be me,” Harry said. “Maybe it’s an older year—”

“Hang on… how many people know this Harry?” Hermione asked. “You told me that you and Draco had to study family trees, yes? Then they must have studied yours as well. So—”

Harry shook his head. “No, no it’s not like that,” Harry said. “My dad was adopted by the Potters, he fully became a Potter. The only people who know about my grandfather are us, Draco, my parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore. That’s it.”

“You don’t think—”

“There’s no way Dumbledore would think it’s me,” Harry said. “He knows that I’m not like Grandfather. If he thought that I opened the Chamber of Secrets, I think he would have asked me by now.”

“So we’re looking for a copycat?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. He looked down at the diary to see one new work has been added: _“Harry?”_

“So how are we supposed to ask around? Hmm? We can’t precisely just go up to your brother and say ‘One of your lot’s pretending to be the Heir of Slytherin and trying to kill folks’ can we?” Ron said.

“No… no we can’t,” Harry frowned. “I’ll think of a way.”

“Alright but Harry,” Hermione said. “For now I think it’d be better if you didn’t tell your diary about what is happening.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“I just don’t know if we can trust it yet,” Hermione said, eyeing the book suspiciously. “Books aren’t supposed to talk back to people.” Giving one last look at the diary, Hermione left, Ron following her.

Harry frowned and looked at Tom’s diary hesitantly. Sitting down, he quickly wrote, _“I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you now,”_ and closed the diary. But instead of returning it to under his bed, Harry instead opened his robe and placed it in there before leaving to join Hermione and Ron.

 

Harry woke up early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if they lost. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table. For some reason, somebody decided to prank him with wet shoes, Harry blamed Fred and George but did not confront them.

“Harry,” a voice said. Harry turned to see Draco walking up to him. “Nervous?” he asked.

“Very,” Harry said.

“Will a kiss help?” Draco asked, looking hopeful.

“I don’t think it will,” Harry said.

“Well… I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Draco smiled. “It could be worse.”

“How so?”

“They all could have Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones,” Draco shrugged. Harry felt his stomach do a flip as he stared at his brother. “They don’t! Don’t worry!” Draco said quickly when he realized Harry looked as if he was about to throw up. He quickly sat Harry down and jammed dried toast into his mouth.

At ten to eleven, the whole Quidditch team rose as one and left the Great Hall, making their way to the Quidditch Pitch. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker room. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood’s usual pre-match pep talk that left Harry feeling strangely more nervous than ever.

For some reason he felt like something horrible was going to happen to him. As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. _One of them is pretending to be me,_ Harry thought to himself as he mounted his broom, eyeing the Slytherin stands.

He turned his attention to the Slytherin team as Flint and Oliver shook hands. His eyes widened when he saw Crabbe and Goyle holding Beater bats. Harry got over his shock quickly as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and he kicked off into the leaden sky.

Harry rose higher than anyone else, the terrible feeling still rumbling inside him. But he had no moment to look for the Snitch as a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

“Close one, Harry!” George said, streaking past him with his club in hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but Crabbe flew by with unnatural speed and knocked the Bludger back at Harry.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it toward the Slytherins. It seemed that Crabbe and Goyle had only one task this match: knock Harry off his broom and harm him. Whenever George hit the Bludger away from them, one of the brutes would always fly towards it and smack it back towards Harry. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering over his glasses. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, “Slytherin lead, forty to ten—”

Crabbe and Goyle’s plan seemed to be working, if this was their plan. Their constant aiming for Harry left Fred and George busy as they were forced to keep close to him.

“This has—to be—illegal!” George grunted with every smack he gave to the Bludger.

“Stop, stop, just go,” Harry said. “I’ll deal with them.”

“But Harry—”

“I just have to avoid them and get the Snitch yeah? Easy,” Harry said. “Now go before Wood chews our ears out!”

The twins looked unconvinced, but they flew away from Harry with one last smack at the Bludger. Again, Goyle smacked the Bludger towards Harry, and the dived before it could get him. Harry needed to move fast, he needed to find the Snitch and finish this before Crabbe and Goyle knocked him off his broom, or worse.

The rain was falling more heavily now. Harry had spent five minutes dodging around in the air as he tried desperately to look for the snitch. He looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another Bludger sent his way from Crabbe and Goyle. He could hear laughter from below, the Slytherin Seeker has stopped looking for the Snitch to instead hover in the air and laugh at Harry’s desperate attempts to avoid the Bludger that Crabbe and Goyle were ping-ponging back and forth to each other.

It was a glint of gold that caught Harry’s attention. There, right above the Slytherin Seeker’s ear was the Golden Snitch! Changing direction, and needing this to end before something horrible happens, Harry charged for the Golden Snitch, his body bent low to his broom. He reached out with his arm, he was almost there—the Slytherin Seeker panicked when he saw Harry hurtling towards him and dived away from the Snitch. Almost there—inches apart—his hand was outstretched, fingers pulsing as it felt the Snitch’s wings beating against them. They were closing around the ball—

_WHAM._

Two Bludgers sandwiched his arm, Harry could hear the bone snapping audible as immense pain shot up. He screamed but his hand reflexively tightened, the Snitch trapped in it as his arm quickly hung loose, completely useless.

WHAM.

Another hit just before the whistle sound and Harry found himself spiraling down to the air. With only one useful arm, Harry did his best to pull his broom up before he fell onto the ground with a splattering thud, rolling off his broom. His completely broken arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his bad hand. “Aha,” he said vaguely. “We’ve won.”

And he fainted.

He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

“Damn… not you,” he moaned.

“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Lockhart said loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. “Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.”

“No!” Harry shouted. “I’ll keep it like this, thanks…”

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

“I don’t want a photo of this, Colin,” he said loudly. “Go away!”

Lie back, Harry,” Lockhart said soothingly. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times—”

“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” Harry said through clenched teeth.

“He should really, Professor,” said a muddy Wood, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say—” he turned around and shouted, “Oi! Let the brother through!”

A second later Harry saw Draco fighting his way through the crowd of Gryffindors.

“Stand back,” Lockhart said, rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

“No—don’t—” Harry said weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry’s arm.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry’s shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn’t dare look at what was happening. He had to shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn’t hurt anymore—nor did it feel remotely like an arm.

“You idiot!” Draco’s voice roared directly on top of Harry. He felt arms around him as his brother helped him to his feet. “You didn’t fit his bones you _removed_ them!”

“Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken,” Lockhart said. “Ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort Harry to the hospital wing?—and Madam Pomfrey will be able to—er—tidy you up a bit Harry.”

Draco muttered madly to himself as he and Ron helped Harry to the hospital wing, shooting angry glares at the thick, flesh-colored rubber glove that replaced Harry’s arm.

Madam Pomfrey, like Draco, was not pleased at all.

“You should have come straight to me!” she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what was Harry’s arm. “I can mend bones in an instant—but growing them back—”

“You will be able to, will you?” Harry said desperately.

“I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful,” Madam Pomfrey said grimly. “You’re in for a rough night Malfoy.”

Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Ron and Draco help him into his pajamas. Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain, holding a large potion labeled _Skele-Gro_.

The potion was disgusting. It burned Harry’s mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tuting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron, Draco, and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water.

“We won though… there’s something to be happy about that at least,” Ron said hopefully.

“Yeah, well your victory cost my brother his arm,” Draco said sternly. “I have no idea what those two were thinking! Focusing all the Bludgers on you! And then having them crush your arm as you get the snitch!”

“That has to be illegal, right?” Hermione asked.

“No, it isn’t,” Draco said. “Beating the Bludgers into the crowd is, but this, focusing on Harry like they did, they’re allowed to do that.”

“Though it’s nasty sportsmanship,” Ron said.

Draco snickered. “Sportsmanship? Big word, Weasley. And you actually expect _sportsmanship_ from those two? Ha!”

The three were kicked out an hour later, Draco trying his best to stay with Harry claiming he needs “brotherly support” to grow his bones, but Madam Pomfrey kicked him out all the same.

Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: His arm now felt full of large splinters. There were footsteps coming his way, and Harry had to cover his mouth to stay quiet as he saw Dumbledore backing into the dormitory. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

Harry’s heart sank as he heard Dumbledore whisper, “Get Madam Pomfrey.” Harry did not need to hear them to know what happened: There was another attack.

Slowly and carefully, Harry raised himself a few inches so he could look at the student on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera. _They attacked again,_ Harry thought to himself. _I still don’t understand who it can be! Who is pretending to be me?_

Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip. “You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?”

Professor McGonagall said eagerly.

Dumbledore didn’t answer. He opened the back of the camera. “Good gracious!”

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry could smell the acrid smell of burnt plastic. _There’s no snake who has this power, is there?_ Harry thought to himself, his mind wheeling. _The most dangerous snake is a basilisk, but they’re extinct. There is no record of them living in Britain if not Europe for the past hundred years… They have fatal stares and poisonous fangs but nothing else. They can’t petrify! They can’t do that to a camera…I think._

A troubled frown graced Harry’s lips as he heard Dumbledore say, “It means, that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. “But, Albus…surely… _who?_ ”

“The question is not who,” Dumbledore said, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, how …”

And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowed face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.


	9. A Dangerous Christmas

Chapter 9

A Dangerous Christmas

The first thing Harry did when he was allowed to leave the hospital wing was to scour his room for both Tom Riddle’s Diary and his copy of _Fantastic Beasts_. _Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong,_ Harry thought to himself as he flipped through his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ finding the passage he was hoping for.

**_BASILISK_ **

_(also known as the King of Serpents)_

_M.O.M. Classification: XXXXX_

_The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard and Parselmouth, who discovered after much experimentations that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent possessed of extraordinarily dangerous powers._

_The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death._

_If the food source is sufficient (the Basilisk will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul’s Basilisk is believed to have lived for close on nine hundred years._

_The creation of Basilisks has been illegal since medieval times, although the practice is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures come to call. However, since Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most Dark wizards as to anybody else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years._

Harry let out a breath of relief. There was nothing about petrification. However, Harry was curious to Scamander’s phrasing of “Anyone looking _directly_ into these.” It was strange, to Harry, that he would point out looking directly into the snake’s eyes. What would happen if you did not look at the eyes directly? But then again, was there even a way to look indirectly though peoples’ eyes? It was so strange to Harry that Scamander would do this, but he could not have time to worry about that some more as soon he was swept away into classwork and homework and before he knew it, it was already mid-December.

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathering around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited. “They’re starting a Dueling Club!” Seamus said. “First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…”

“What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” Ron said, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

“Could be useful,” he said to Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. “Shall we go?” Harry and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o’clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead.

“Oh god,” Harry moaned as he saw, much to his displeasure, Lockhart walking on stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Harry did his best to ignore Lockhart, figuring he wasn’t saying anything useful, and looked around for his brother, wondering if he was here. He saw Draco with the other Slytherins and patted Ron’s and Hermione’s shoulders ‘goodbye’ as he cut through the crowd to get to Draco.

The moment he touched Draco’s shoulder, Snape cried out _“Expelliarmus!”_ There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

“Was hoping they would do that to each other,” Harry said in Draco’s ear.

“Harry! There you are, was wondering,” Draco muttered and the two automatically placed an arm around the other. “You should praise me,” he said.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because I remembered that spell, the snake spell,” Draco chuckled.

“Oh yeah…”

“Why aren’t you excited?” Draco demanded.

“I just forgot about it, that’s all,” Harry shrugged. “Why? What are you planning to do…”

Draco just gave him a sadistic grin and Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “No! Don’t you dare, are you insane!”

“Your ability is cool—”

“Now is _not_ the time Draco, understand?” Harry said.

“But—”

“Draco,” Harry sighed. “What do you think will happen if you summon a snake and I _talk_ to it?”

“You will be able to see if the voices you are hearing are the same as the snake. Nobody will have to know, you don’t have to talk to it, Harry, just listen,” Draco said. “I’ve worked so hard to learn this spell… please.”

Draco leaned close, wrapped his other arm around Harry, and rested against Harry’s shoulder. “Please Harry… we’ll take the snake away after it hisses for a while.”

“Okay, fine,” Harry sighed. Draco grinned and kissed Harry’s cheek.

Luckily the two were paired together as Lockhart and Snape divided the room into pairs. “Face your partners!” Lockhart called on the platform. “And bow!”

Harry and Draco bowed to each other.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart shouted. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents— _only_ to disarm them—we don’t want any accidents—one…two…three—”

Harry swung his wand high, as did Draco, _“Rictusempra!_ ” they both shouted. Jets of silver hit them both in the stomachs and they doubled over, wheezing. Harry thought that Draco was about to cast the snake-summoning spell but, being a twelve-year-old, he could not resist the opportunity to hit his brother with a Tickling Charm.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as the Malfoys fell to their knees laughing uncontrollably.

Lockhart lost control immediately, but Snape took charge. “I think it would be better to teach how to block… unfriendly spells,” he said.

“Yes! A very good idea Professor Snape! Harry why don’t you and Longbottom—”

“Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Potter-Malfoy up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. “Why don’t I choose a student… Malfoy, perhaps?”

“Excellent idea!” Lockhart said, gesturing Harry and Draco into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. “I’ll summon it for a second just to hear it hiss, okay?” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear, who nodded.

“Now, Harry,” Lockhart said. “When Draco points his wand at you, you do this.”

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, “Whoops—my wand is a little overexcited—”

Harry just stared at Lockhart unimpressed. Lockhart straightened himself and said, “Three—two—one—go!”

Draco raised his wand quickly and bellowed, _“Serpensortia!”_

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Harry strained his ears to listen to the snake’s hissing.

“Don’t move, Malfoy,” Snape said lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionlessly, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it. …”

“Allow me!” Lockhart shouted. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry acted fast. Throwing caution to the wind, he screamed out, _“Stop!”_ The snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry’s brief relief of knowing that the snake won’t attack anyone was quickly drained; replaced by the all knowing knowledge that everyone was staring at him. “What do you think you’re playing at?” Justin shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Finch-Fletchley turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: it was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn’t like it. There was an ominous muttering all around the walls. Draco quickly made his way to him, and pulled his robes, “Come on, let’s go.”

Draco steered him out of the hall. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry and Draco both shared a guilty look but they did not talk till they were both inside the empty Gryffindor common room. “That went horrible,” Draco sighed. “I’m so sorry Harry.”

“It’s not your fault… if that snake didn’t go for Finch-Fletchley, if Lockhart didn’t try to banish it like that, then it would have gone straight for me, right?” Harry asked. “And Snape would banish it before it could get to me… I think.”

“Still, now the school knows,” Draco frowned.

Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and bit his lip before shrugging. “At least… that’s the secret the school knows about instead of well, the other thing.”

“I guess so.”

“So, don’t mope around and just look at me,” Harry commanded.

Draco looked up at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “Who do you think you are, commanding me around, _little_ brother?”

Harry just grinned cheekily. “If it makes you feel better… the voices that I heard and the snake’s… they sound similar.”

“Good! Wait… that means…”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Slytherin’s monster is some sort of snake.”

 

Harry had horrible dreams and at the next morning he woke up with feathers again plastered to him, and his nightgown and shoes were soaking wet. He turned to look at Draco (they decided to sleep in the same dorm that night) and frowned when he saw that Draco was completely dry.

The snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to growl quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess.

“For heaven’s sake, Harry,” Hermione said, “go and find Justin if it’s so important to you.”

So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, harry walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snippets of what was happening within. He turned a corner and almost walked into the large, thick figure of Hagrid.

“Oh, hello Hagrid.”

Hagrid’s face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

“All righ’, Harry?” he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. “Why aren’t yeh in class?”

“Canceled,” Harry said. “What’re you doing in here?”

Hagrid held up the limp rooster. “Second one killed this term,” he explained. “It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’ I need the Headmaster’s permission ter put a charm around the hen coop.”

He peered more closely at Harry from under his thick, snow-flecked eyebrows. “Yeh sure yeh’re all righ’? Yeh look paler than usual—”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. “I’d better get going, Hagrid, it’s Transfiguration next and I’ve got to pick up my books.”

He walked off, any thoughts of finding Justin gone. Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose window pane. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

He turned to squint at what he’d fallen over and felt as though his stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn’t just leave them lying here. …He had to get help. Would anyone believe he hadn’t had anything to do with this?

He heard footsteps and turned both hopeful and scared as Professor McGonagall walked into the hallway. She stopped, staring in shock at the figures of Justin and Nearly Headless Nick before turning to Harry.

“Professor, please—”

“This is out of my hands, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall said curtly. “This way.”

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

“Lemon drop!” she said. The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry couldn’t fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead.

He knew now where he was being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone. The first thing that caught Harry’s attention was a bird standing on a golden perch behind the door that looked like a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making a gagging noise. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

Harry screamed and jump back.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

“Professor,” Harry gasped. “Your bird—I couldn’t do anything—he caught fire—”

To Harry’s astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

“About time, too,” he said. “He’s been looking dreadful for days. I’ve been telling him to get a move on.”

He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry’s face. “Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes busrt into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…”

Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poked its head out of the ashes.

“It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day,” Dumbledore said, seating himself behind his desk. “He’s really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets.”

Harry just nodded, his mind going back to why he was in Dumbledore’s office in the first place. However, before either of them could speak, the door flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on the top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

“It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore! I was talkin’ ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir—”

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore said loudly to stop the man from ranting before he started, “I do not think that Harry attacked those people.”

“Oh,” Hagrid said, the rooster falling limply at his side. “Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.”

And he stomped out looking embarrassed. Harry felt that this was the perfect time to ask about something bothering him. “Sir? Has the Chamber of Secrets been open before?”

“And what makes you think that, Harry?” Dumbledore wondered.

“It’s just the writing on the wall… it refers to the heir of Slytherin but… that’s _me_. I’m Slytherin’s heir through my dad and… grandfather but I didn’t even know about the Chamber of Secrets. So I want to know if… if…”

“You are wondering, Harry, if your grandfather Lord Voldemort has opened the Chamber of Secrets when he went to school here,” Dumbledore helped.

Harry nodded.

“I believe that he did,” Dumbledore said. “The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been open one time fifty years ago. During that time, a young student died because of it. A muggleborn like all the recent victims of this tragedy.”

“Who—”

“You might know her from her current habitat at the second floor girls’ bathroom,” Dumbledore said.

“Moaning Myrtle?” Harry gasped.

“Yes.”

“Was he… was my grandfather caught?”

“No, however as far as the Ministry and the rest of the school knows… the perturbator had been caught and punished,” Dumbledore said. “I do not believe that you are the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets Harry. You are Lord Voldemort’s grandson, that much cannot be ignored, but you are so much more than that Harry. Remember that.”

“I… I will, Professor,” Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled and dismissed him.

 

That night Harry sat down to write to Tom like he always did. He waited until everyone else was asleep. Alone in the common room, he sat at a desk, his hand holding his quill tightly as he hesitated about what he was about to write. He had to know. He wanted to know if Tom knew anything, if Tom could help him.

 _“Tom, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”_ he wrote.

Tom appeared to be thinking his answer carefully, as it took a few moments before his response came. _“Yes, I do. Why may I ask?”_

 _“What do you know about it? Was it opened while you were at school?”_ Harry wrote hopefully.

_“In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I know it would happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.”_

Harry wrote quickly. _“Can you show me? The same thing is happening here right now. Someone is claiming to be me, the Heir of Slytherin, and people are getting hurt.”_

_“Of course, Harry.”_

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Harry felt the now too familiar feeling of being sucked into the diary, his feet hitting solid ground. Harry found Tom Riddle walking down the stairs to the dungeons. Harry ran after him.

To Harry’s disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which Harry had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn’t been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Tom at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He could hear whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Tom were hidden. Tom, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn’t be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Tom stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

“C’mon… gotta get yeh outta here. …C’mon now … in the box …”

That wasn’t his grandfather.

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner, Harry stepped out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

“Evening, Rubeus,” Riddle said sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

“What yer doin’ here,Tom?”

Riddle stepped closer. _This is wrong,_ Harry thought.

“It’s all over,” Riddle said. “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.”

“What d’yeh—”

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—”

“It never killed no one!” said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking. _Where is my grandfather? Why is Riddle interrogating Hagrid?_

“Come on, Rubeus,” Riddle said, moving yet closer. “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

“It wasn’t him!” the boy roared, his voice echoing in the dark passage. “He wouldn’t! He never!”

“Stand aside,” Riddle said, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone—

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers—Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, “NOOOOO!”

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread eagle on the floor next to the desk. _This is wrong, this is all wrong,_ he thought to himself. _Where was my grandfather? Where was the snake? Riddle got the wrong guy…_

He stood up and frowned at the book. Picking it up, he examined the blank pages for a moment, his eyes darting from the yellow pages to the quill, before closing the diary and saying, “Tom why did you lie to me?”


	10. The Chamber

**Chapter 10**

**The Chamber**

Harry spent the first day of the Christmas break in the library. He needed to learn more about the true monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom’s Dairy was back in his room, hiding under his bed. He hasn’t opened it since the night Tom showed him the day he caught and accused Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets. He knew that Hagrid was innocent. His grandfather must have done it, Harry just needs to put any doubts to rest. He was still worried about why Newt Scamander in _his Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find_ them wrote down “directly” when talking about looking into a basilisk’s eyes.

Draco went to the library with him on the day before Christmas. “Harry, why are you doing this?” he asked.

“I have to know,” Harry said. “I need—I have to have zero doubts about this. I know you told me to leave it alone, but if Slytherin’s monster is a Basilisk or any type of snake, I can—”

“No,” Draco said firmly. “No Harry, I will not allow you to do this.”

“This is not the Philosopher’s Stone again,” Harry said. “This is not me putting my nose in other people’s business—this is my business!”

“How? How is this your business?” Draco demanded. “You’re a Gryffindor, a Malfoy Gryffindor! The only business you have is being the first in the family to break our Slytherin tradition!”

“Slytherin is my family, Draco!” Harry said. “Salazar Slytherin is my great-great-great-many-greats-grandfather! Slytherin is my ancestor, Voldemort is my grandfather, and it is my responsibility to close the Chamber of Secrets. I am Slytherin’s heir, his grandson. I need to fix his mistake. I don’t care what you say Draco, you are not convincing me otherwise.”

Draco sighed and shook his head. “Bloody, stubborn brother,” he muttered. “When you are my husband, you _will_ do everything I tell you to do,” he said louder, looking at Harry with a firm sort of conviction. “So… what are we looking for?”

“We?” Harry asked.

“Yes, we,” Draco said. “As your older brother and future husband, I won’t allow you to do this yourself.”

“I…thanks,” Harry sighed. “We’re looking for any information regarding giant snakes and petrifying. I’ve read _Fantastic Beasts_ already, and there was a line that have been bugging me for some time.”

“What line?’ Draco asked.

“Basically, anyone looking directly into a basilisk’s eyes will die instantly,” Harry said. “I don’t know why he would point out looking directly into a basilisk’s eyes. Why not just say look at the basilisk’s eyes? Or towards? But he said directly.”

“Which makes you think what?”

“What happens when you look _indirectly_ at a Basilisk’s eyes,” Harry said.

“I don’t know, what happens when you look indirectly at a basilisk’s eyes?” Draco asked.

“That’s what I want to find out,” Harry said. “If I know that, along with a few other things, then I know if the monster is, in fact, a Basilisk.”

“And if it is?” Draco asked.

“Then I’ll go and tell it to go to sleep… forever,” Harry said. “It has to listen to me, I mean it listened to my grandfather, right? I’m basically it’s owner… or at least I’m supposed to be it’s owner.”

“So that’s your big plan? Just pop down the Chamber of Secrets and tell the monster to go to bed?” Draco said, flabbergasted.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Harry…” Draco groaned. “That is not a plan!”

“Well it’s the best one we’ll ever going to have,” Harry said. “Whatever it is, it can petrify people! There’s no way we can kill it! It’s impossible. Besides, right now we’re just trying to figure out if it is or isn’t a Basilisk.”

“Why don’t you ask Tom? Draco asked sincerely, “Maybe he knows something?”

“Tom…I can’t,” Harry said vaguely.

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t think I can trust him,” Harry said. “Hermione was right. I asked him about it and he showed me a memory of his.”

“What was it?”

“He told me that he caught my grandfather, or at least the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets, only it wasn’t,” Harry frowned. “It was Hagrid.”

“Hagrid?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “He caught Hagrid with some creature, but it wasn’t Slytherin’s monster.”

“Strange,” Draco frowned. “And the attacks stopped after this?”

“Well he was rewarded for it so yeah,” Harry said. “But why would he lie to me?”

“I have no idea,” Draco said. “But for now I think we should just focus on looking up information about the basilisk?”

Harry agreed and they’ve spent the rest of the day reading, finding ultimately nothing but Harry did pick out the next book he was going to read tomorrow, particularly thick tome titled _Most Macabre Monsters_. For some reason, he had a very good feeling about that one. He managed to sneak the book with him out of the library, hiding it under his robes as he and Draco walk out holding hands and looking innocent.

Harry waited until Ron went to sleep to open the book, quickly skimming through it until he found an entry about the Basilisk.

_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._

Harry gasped. “It’s a Basilisk!” he said, staring at the page, his mind going back to the strange behaviors of the spiders and Hagrid telling him about his roosters being strangled. He had to tell Draco, he had to tell anybody. Slytherin’s Monster was a Basilisk!

But, before he could move, a sudden tiredness washed over him, and Harry slumped asleep on his bed.

 

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron woke up to a pile of presents in front of their beds. Harry groaned, feeling a little groggy and felt for Tom’s diary, when he couldn’t feel it, he felt a little relieved. He frowned, feeling as if he had forgotten something, but the feeling went away as he focused on the pile of presents in front of him.

Hagrid sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, which Harry decided to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given him a book called _Flying with the Cannons_ , a book of interesting facts about his favorite Quidditch team, and Hermione had brought him a luxury eagle-feather quill. Blaise sent him a lovely looking bracelet with a note that said, _“To my future husband, I hope you have a fantastic Christmas, so sorry that I cannot spend it in your arms.”_ Harry frowned, feeling guilty. Because of his obsession with the Chamber of Secrets, he couldn’t see Blaise alone as much as he wanted to. He missed his friend/potential husband.

Draco sent him a large box of chocolates while Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy gave him several books on Quidditch and snakes (none of them contained information on basilisks). Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake.

It was during the afternoon, while Harry was putting away his presents, that he found a strange sight. He tripped and accidently dropped Blaise’s bracelet, which rolled under his bed. Harry got on his hands and knees and gasped when he saw that under his bed was also a book, which the bracelet was leaning against. Frowning, Harry pulled out both the bracelet and the book, reading the title. _Most Macabre Monsters._

Harry wondered how the library book got under his bed when, as if a locked door was open, last night’s memories came flooding in. He remembered reading the book and learning the identity of Slytherin’s Monster… then he fell asleep before he could go tell Draco. Harry barely wondered why he fell asleep so suddenly as he jumped to his feet and bolted out of the dormitory. He had to tell Draco.

He found Draco in the Slytherin common room, reading a new book about dragons and dragon handling. “Harry, Happy Christmas,” Draco said looking up from the book.

“It’s a Basilisk,” Harry said. “I am certain about it. Spiders are scared by it and at both the places where I found Mrs. Norris and Justin, spiders were acting very strangely, running away single file, and only the sound of a rooster can kill it and I ran into Hagrid the day after the dueling club, he told me that he had his second rooster strangled to death.”

Draco closed his book and stood up. “Okay… now what? Basilisks have a deadly gaze, how did it petrify Mrs. Norris, Colin, Justin, and that ghost?” he asked.

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. “Indirectly,” he said after a moment of silence. “What if… what if they didn’t look at the Basilisk’s eyes directly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Norris… there was water flooding on the floor. She must have seen the basilisk in the water… and Colin has his camera,” Harry said.

“What about Justin and that ghost?”

“Justin… Justin must have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick,” Harry said. “Nick must have gotten the full blast from the Basilisk but he’s a ghost. He can’t die twice, right?”

“I don’t think so,” Draco said. “So now what?”

“Now… we go find the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry said.

“Because that is just easy,” Draco grumbled. “Shall we go and ask for directions?”

“Actually yes,” Harry nodded. “Come on!”

“Harry! I was kidding!” Draco yelled out as he chased after his brother.

The two ran out of the Slytherin common room and out of the dungeons. Harry led Draco to the second floor and towards the girls’ bathroom. “Harry! You know who’s in here, right?” Draco yelled after him.

“Yeah, that’s who we’re seeing,” Harry said. He pushed open the door and the two walked into the bathroom. There was a loud sniffling sound as Draco silently closed the door behind him. “Harry, are you sure—”

“Shh,” Harry hushed. He looked out at the toilets and said, “Myrtle?”

The crying stopped. Harry and Draco made their way to the end toilet and Harry opened the door apprehensively. Myrtle was sitting on the tank. “Oh, it’s you,” she said when she saw Harry. “You’re not a girl, what do you want?”

“I want to ask you how you died,” Harry said.

Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

“Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet and then—” Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. “I _died_.”

“But how did you die?” Harry asked. “You left out the most important detail.”

“No idea,” Myrtle said in a hushed tone. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. …” She looked dreamily at Harry. “And then I cam back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever been mean to me.”

“And where were these eyes?” Harry asked.

“Somewhere there,” Myrtle said, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

“Thank you,” Harry said, smiling politely.

Myrtle stared at him for a moment, confused, then, if it was possible, the ghost paled before screaming in total terror. She backed away into the tank of her toilet. “You—you—you—you!” she said.

Harry frowned. “I guess I look like him,” he said, turning to Draco. “My grandfather.”

“Well, we have what we want so let’s leave her,” Draco said, and Harry agreed.

It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it: Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake. Harry tried to turn it on but it didn’t work.

“This must be the entrance,” Harry said.

“So what are you waiting for?” Draco asked. “Tell it to open up.”

_“Open up,”_ Harry hissed with ease and the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry and Draco turned to each other. Harry held out his hand. Draco took it. They nodded and looked back at the pipe. “One, two, three!” Harry shouted and the two jumped into the pipe. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. Harry could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted, sloping steeply downward, and he knew that they were falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.

And then, just as they he had begun to worry what would happen when they hit the ground, the piple leveled out, and they shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

“Where are we?” Draco asked.

“We must be miles under the school,” Harry said, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

“Under the lake?”

“Probably,” Harry said. The two turned to stare into the darkness ahead. “ _Lumos_ ,” the two muttered and the tips of their wands lit.

“Let’s go then,” Draco said and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor. The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

“Harry, just thought of something,” Draco said.

“What is it?”

“What if the basilisk is… waiting for us?” Draco asked.

“Then… if we see any movement, we’ll close our eyes,” Harry said.

“Great, we’ll just be a standing target for it,” Draco muttered. Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, you close your eyes and I’ll be hissing quickly.”

Draco stopped for a moment, his face pale as he turned to Harry. “We’re going to die here,” his voice cracked. Harry sighed and pulled his brother along, wishing he had a little more faith in him.

The tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Harry stepped on what looked like a rat skull. He lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones.

“What is that?” Draco said, pointing. The two froze, watching. Harry could just see the outline of something huge and curved lying right across the tunnel. It wasn’t moving.

“Think it’s sleeping?” Harry asked.

“I’m not going to check on it,” Draco said. Harry’s heart was beating so fast it hurt. Very slowly, his eyes as narrow as he could make them and still see, Harry edged forward, his wand held high.

The light slid over a gigantic snake skin of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The basilisk that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

“Are you sure you can still control it?” Draco asked, staring at the skin.

“Yeah, I’m good at controlling snakes,” Harry said, and though his heart was beating violently, he did his best to wink at Draco. Draco just raised an eyebrow and they continued down the tunnel.

It went on for seemingly forever. The two held their wands high in one hand as they hold each other’s hand with the other, walking shoulder to shoulder as they made their slow way down the dark tunnel. It turned and turned again. Every nerve in Harry’s body was tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what he’d find when it did. And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, they saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great glinting emeralds.

Still holding Draco’s hand, Harry approached his throat very dry. He could guess what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

_“Open,”_ Harry hissed.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open; the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry and Draco, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.

Harry felt lips on his cheek and heard Draco whisper, “For luck.” He turned and kissed Draco’s cheek, “for luck,” he repeated.

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

“I don’t see it,” Draco whispered.

“Be very careful,” Harry whispered back.

Their wands out, they moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.

Then, as they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.

“Not to sound rude… but your ancestor is a bit of an egotist,” Draco said, staring at the statue. Harry nodded.

“I can’t see the basilisk, is it here?” Draco asked.

“No… no I think it has to be summoned,” Harry said. They took a step towards the statue.

Harry screamed.

White-hot pain seared through his body, he felt as if his robes were on fire. Letting go of Draco’s hand, Harry scrambled to tear his robes off his body. As he did a small black book flew out of one of the pockets and landed on the wet floor, opened. Harry’s vision began going as a strange sight happened before his eyes.

The diary glowed, and a body seemed to be crawling out of it, its limps contorted and sickly looking as it pushed itself into existence. Draco began screaming as the body began to stand and definition started to show until the handsome teenager Tom Riddle stood in front of them, his face cold.

Then Harry blacked out.


	11. The Heir of Slytherin

**Chapter 11**

**The Heir of Slytherin**

Senses slowly returned to Harry. He felt weak, groggy, he could barely stand. His eyes felt as if they were weighted down shut while his limps were unresponsive. He was damp, and he could hear a boy hissing. It took Harry all his might to crack open his eyes. His mouth was dry and voice barely a hoarse whisper, “Dray…”

“Ah, you’re awake. Good,” a voice smiled. Harry’s eyes cracked open more, and a tall, black-haired handsome boy came into focus, leaning against a pillar. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry was looking at him through a misted window.

“T-Tom?” Harry croaked out.

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face.

“H-How…”

“I’m surprised you are awake, Harry,” Riddle said. “Your brother on the other hand…” He pointed a familiar wand a little ways from Harry. Harry forced his hand to move and gasped. Draco was lying unconscious on the chamber floor, his glasses askew and hanging off his face. “Draco!”

“He’s not dead, yet,” Riddle said.

Harry started feeling control slowly seep back into his body. His eyes were fully open and his senses returned. “You were in the diary,” He said.

“But now I’m not because of you,” Tom said. “A nice gesture to your replacement ‘grandfather.’”

“W-Why… there’s a basilisk Tom, you have to help me get Draco out of here—”

“The basilisk won’t come until it’s called,” Riddle said calmly. Harry stared at the wand Riddle was twirling and recognized it.

“Give me my wand back Tom, I might need it,” Harry said. Lifting his arm up with great effort.

“You won’t be needing it,” Riddle said. Harry stared at him.

“What d’you mean, I won’t be—?”

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry,” Riddle said. “For us to speak face to face.”

“Tom?” Harry asked. He could feel his arms and feel. Weakly, he rolled to his side and did his best to push himself up. “We’re in the Chamber of Secerts, we can talk later—”

“We’re going to talk now,” Riddle said, smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand.

Harry stared at him. “How are you here?” he asked.

“An interesting story,” Riddle smirked. “Though this story has you in the center Harry. After all, you opened your diary and spilled all your secrets to an invisible stranger. How Mr. Malfoy doesn’t truly care about you…your struggle with your grandfather, and your feelings for Draco and Blaise. Months you have been feeding,” Riddle stared at Harry with a hungry look in his face. “Talking endlessly about your grandfather… I’ve grown stronger and stronger with every doubt and fear you opened up to me. The more you poured your soul into me… _I_ poured _my_ soul into you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry demanded.

“You haven’t noticed, grandson of the Dark Lord?” Riddle laughed coldly. “You have opened the Chamber of Secrets before. You were the one who strangled the school’s rooster. You were the one who wrote that message. You, Harry Malfoy, were the one who set the Serpent of Slytherin on two Mudbloods and the Squib’s cat.”

“No!”

“Yes,” Riddle said calmly. “Of course, you didn’t know what you were doing…and still you have not. The time when you woke with feathers in your bed? Or when your shoes were wet… blood on your hands.” Riddle gave Harry a cold smile. “Those nights you can’t remember…”

“No… it can’t be,” Harry said, starting to shake. “I—it wasn’t me!”

“But it was Harry,” Tom said. “Granted you needed me whispering in your ear, but your actions are your own… _heir of Slytherin.”_

Harry flared a breath. “You liar!”

Riddle chuckled. “Believe me or not, Harry, the truth will not change. But now we are face to face, and I can learn everything I want to know about you…though I was worried after you stopped speaking to me after I showed you my famous capture of the great oaf, Hagrid—”

“Hagrid’s my friend,” Harry said. “And you framed him! He did not open the Chamber of Secrets, my grandfather did!”

“Harry… Harry… Harry,” Riddle said slowly, shaking his head as he chuckled. “How can you not realize? It hurts my heart.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, staring at the boy wearily.

Riddle stared at him, giving a sadistic, cold grin that did not fit his handsome face. “I am not surprised, that the old fool never told you my name. I’ve abandoned it even when I was at Hogwarts. My friends started calling me by my new name, my true name.” He took Harry’s wand out and began writing in the air. Burning letters appearing and spelling out:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

He waved the wand and the letters rearranged themselves, burning in the air ominously.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You see, Harry… I am your grandfather.”

“You…”

Riddle laughed his high, cold laugh. “It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student …on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls …but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I though someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance…as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!

“Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. …Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.”

“He must have saw right through you!” Harry snarled angrily, his fear forgotten and replaced.

Riddle smirked. “Well, he kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled. But now… now he cannot stop me. We can finish the work of our great ancestor, Salazar Slytherin and clean the filth from this castle. Together, Harry… my grandson.”

Harry looked up at Riddle. He tried to control his emotions as he looked away from the approaching teen, staring at the unconscious form of Draco. “I can make them love you the way you want them to,” Riddle whispered, now standing on top of Harry. Harry froze in shock. “Harry… my grandson, tell me,” Riddle said softly. “How is it that you, a mere child, defeated the greatest wizard who ever lived?”

“You are not the greatest wizard in the world,” Harry said. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the greatest wizard in the whole world is Albus Dumbledore! Even you’re afraid of him, _grandfather.”_

The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore will be driven out—”

“He’s still here,” Harry said. “Dumbledore will never leave Hogwarts!”

“That… is what you think, grandson,” Riddle said. He opened his mouth, but froze—

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry’s scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling twice its size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping to weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacok’s and gleaming golden talons, which was gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.

“That’s a phoenix…” Riddle said.

“Fawkes?” Harry breathed, and he felt the bird’s talons squeeze his shoulder gently.

“And that—” Riddle said, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, “that’s the old school Sorting Hat—”

So, it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry’s feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once—

“That is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Malfoy? Do you feel safe now?”

Harry did not answer. His mind whirled to try and find any usefulness for the phoenix and Sorting Hat but found none. Eyeing the black diary near Draco’s body, his eyes lightened as a plan began to form inside. Riddle came from the diary, they must still be connected somehow. He looked at Riddle and sagged his shoulders, looking as defeated as possible. “Grandfather…” he said in a low voice, “you win.”

Harry felt a weight leaving his shoulder as Fawkes flew off, perching itself on the nearest pillar. Harry stepped over the Sorting Hat and looked up at Riddle. “You win Grandfather…”

A smirk appeared on Riddle’s face. “I knew you would make the correct choice, Harry. But I need confirmation… I must know that you are truthful.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, fear in his eyes as they flicked towards Draco.

“Not Draco, no, I will not have you spill pure blood,” Riddle said. “I am talking of your _friend_ , the mudblood Granger. Call the basilisk and have it kill her.”

Harry faltered, looking down from Riddle for a moment. He nodded, “Okay Grandfather…”

Riddle smirked.

“Grandfather? Can I hold your diary? I feel odd without it,” Harry said.

“Of course grandson,” Riddle said, his smirk growing with every second. Harry turned from Riddle and took a deep breath as he took slow, measured steps towards the black diary and Draco’s body. He knelt down and frowned at Draco. “I’m so sorry Draco, I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said, bending down and kissing Draco’s cheek.

He picked up the diary as he stood up, and turned back to Riddle. “Okay Grandfather,” he breathed. “I’ll summon the basilisk.”

Riddle extended his arm and waited for Harry to walk to him, placing the hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know the words, Harry,” Riddle said calmly.

Harry nodded, feeling forgotten memories floating in his mind. He looked up at the statue of Slytherin and, holding the diary, he hissed out, _“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”_

Slytherin’s gigantic stone face was moving. The mouth opening wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. And something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

Harry took a step back but Riddle’s hand kept him in place. He saw a hint of poisonous green, and Harry focused himself to stare at the stone floor as something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Slytherin’s Serpent uncoiled itself from Slytherin’s mouth.

_Now or never,_ Harry thought to himself. He stared at the snake’s body, avoiding it’s face as much as possible. The enormous serpent was a bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk. _“Basilisk! I am the Heir of Slytherin!”_ He felt Riddle’s hand squeeze his shoulder. The serpent stopped and Harry could feel it staring at both of them. His hand tightened on the diary. He looked up as far as he could without looking at the basilisk’s head. _“Slytherin is my ancestor! Voldemort, the one who woke you up last is my grandfather! So… Serpent… I command you to… destroy this diary!”_

Harry threw the diary with all his might at the Basilisk’s head. Riddle was stunned for only half a second before he screamed, “No!” He threw Harry to the ground, the boy landing hard on his back. Riddle grabbed for his wand, but it was too late. Through squinting eyes, Harry saw a burst of light erupt from Riddle’s chest. Another burst of light come out of his mouth and eyes, Riddle’s face disintegrating. Bright light filled the hall, flashing for a moment, before darkness taking over. Harry heard his wand drop to the floor, and Draco took a sudden deep breath.

“Draco! Keep your eyes closed!” Harry panicked, his head whipping to Draco. Draco’s eyes began to open, but he closed them immediately. Harry grabbed his wand and stood to his feet. _“Basilisk!”_ he yelled out. _“I am the Heir of Slytherin, the only one! Go back to the statue and never come out! Ignore all calls from others, you’re not needed anymore!”_

Harry could sense the snake’s anger. It gave a murderous hiss, and Harry heard something wet falling to the ground before the large body turned and slunk back into the wide-open mouth of Slytherin’s statue. Harry did not move or looked anywhere else until he hear the stone face closed. Once he was certain that the statue’s mouth was close, Harry opened his eyes and darted towards Draco.

“Draco!” he cried, pulling the taller boy into a hug. The older boy opened his eyes and wrapped his arms around Harry as he looked around.

“What happened?” he asked groggily. “I remember that boy crawling out of the diary… and then nothing.”

“That was Riddle, Tom Riddle…” Harry said, helping Draco in a sitting position. “He was controlling me—all those things, the roosters, the attacks, the writing—it was me. I am the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Harry—”

“No it’s true,” Harry frowned. “It’s all my fault…”

“No it is not Harry,” Draco said. He grabbed Harry’s face and forced him to look at him. “You didn’t do this. You said it yourself, Riddle controlled you right? So you’re blameless.”

“But I am the Heir of Slytherin! I can control the basilisk!”

“So? What did you tell the basilisk to do?”

“To kill all our fr—”

“No, as yourself without Riddle possessing you,” Draco said. “What did you just tell the snake to do?”

“To go back to where it’s sleeping and never come out,” Harry said.

“See? You did not do anything wrong,” Draco said. “All of that was Riddle’s fault. Though… how did he know about the Chamber of Secrets so much? And how to summon it?” He frowned slightly.

“That’s because he’s… Tom Riddle is the name of my grandfather,” Harry admitted. Draco stared at him, shocked. Harry nodded and frowned. He looked around, and saw the thing that the basilisk spat out. It was the dairy with many piercings in it, covered in what looked like a mixture of spit and poison. Harry stood up and grabbed Draco’s hand. They both stared at the diary.

“Do you think it’s safe to touch?” Draco asked after a while.

Harry took off his cloak and wrapped it around the diary. Draco saw the Sorting Hat and picked it up, frowning. “What is this doing here?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Fawkes brought it with him,” Harry shrugged, looking at the phoenix. Draco followed Harry’s stare and gapped at the phoenix. “It’s Dumbledore’s,” Harry explained as the bird flew down to them.

“What is it doing here?” Draco frowned. “You didn’t tell Dumbledore—”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry said. “I guess the old man just knew that we would try and come here and they’re the help he gave me—us.”

“A songbird and a raggedy hat?” Draco sneered slightly, staring at the Sorting Hat in his hand. Harry shrugged and looked around. “More importantly,” Draco said, “how that the snake… the snake’s gone for good right?”—Harry nodded—“now that it’s gone, how do we get out of here?”

Fawkes seemed to have been waiting for one of them to ask as it presented its golden talons to Harry. “I think he wants us to grab it,” Harry said hesitantly. He looked at the beady eyes of the phoenix. Fawkes nodded. Harry clasped Draco’s hand tightly in one of his hand as he handed his bundled-up robes to Draco, who held it to his chest with the Sorting hat. Harry grabbed Fawkes with his free hand and the phoenix flew into the air, carrying both boys easily.

They soared through the tunnels that both boys crept by only hours ago, and up through the man-sized pipe straight into the girl’s bathroom. But Fawkes did not stop, it continued to fly, carrying both Malfoys, until they stood in front of the stone gargoyle that Harry recognized as the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office.

The two looked at each other hesitantly before the gargoyle jumped out of the way, and Fawkes led them up the spiraling staircase. When they reached the door, Harry and Draco squeezed each other’s hand before Harry pushed the door open.

“Harry! Draco!” arms wrapped around them and a body obscured their vision as Uncle Sirius ran to them.

“Uncle Sirius! What are you doing here?” Draco groaned as he tried to look past Sirius’s body. He caught glimpses of their parents, sitting with Dumbledore. “F-Father…”

Sirius let go of them, but didn’t move away. Instead he placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and led them to two chairs. Dumbledore sat patiently in his chair as Fawkes returned to his perch. Professors McGonagall and Snape standing by his desk. Mrs. Malfoy remained in her chair, and Harry thought that she gained some weight as Mr. Malfoy sat next to her, looking as authoritarian as he could. “Draco… Harry,” he said.

“It’s all my fault,” Harry said. “I convinced Draco to come with me!”

“Harry, no!”

“Draco shut up—”

“Harry!”

The two glared at each other, both wanting to take the blame as Dumbledore cleared his throat. The two looked at each other, frowning, and Draco unwrapped Riddle’s diary, laying it on Dumbledore’s desk along with the empty Sorting Hat.

Mr. Malfoy stared at the diary, a flash of recognition on his face. “Where did you get that?” he asked, looking at Draco.

“I got it from your office,” Harry answered. “Before the school year began.” Then he started telling them everything. For more than a half hour he spoke into the rapt silence. He told them about founding the diary when he sneaked into his father’s office, how he started writing to Riddle regularly, telling him how much Mr. Malfoy made him hate the man, how he is frustrated with the way Mr. Malfoy treats him, and how Mrs. Malfoy did little to nothing to stop him; then he told about hearing the disembodied voice, how he finally figured out what he was hearing was a Basilisk in the pipes; how he and Draco found the Chamber of Secrets and went to confront the snake in the girls bathroom. Harry’s voice was growing hoarse as he started about the two exploring the Chamber of Secrets, walking into the empty Chamber and Tom Riddle’s appearance from the diary. How Riddle turned out to be his grandfather. He finished with a description of how he tricked Riddle into letting him summon the Basilisk, and using it to destroy the diary and Riddle.

“How interesting,” Dumbledore said gently. “That a simple diary could posses Harry so. It was a very unlucky thing, Harry, that you have found it in your father’s study. Though I wonder why it was there to begin with.”

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned, tired of talking. Dumbledore took the diary and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.

“Brilliant,” he said softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen. He turned around to the Malfoys and Sirius, who looked bewildered.

“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school …traveled far and wide … sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”

Harry felt Sirius squeeze his shoulder and looked up at the man. “Why was the diary somewhere my godson could easily get?” the man demanded, glaring at Mr. Malfoy.

Mr. Malfoy did not answer, instead he just stared at the diary and looked back at Harry. Harry was the one who answered. “I think… I think grandfather gave it to Mr. M—father, when he was strong,” he said. “Father must have forgotten about it.”

Mr. Malfoy gave Harry a sharp look, which Harry returned. None of this would have happened if Mr. Malfoy didn’t lock him in his room for a month, Harry thought.

“Nevertheless, you boys have done a great service to the school,” Dumbledore said. “The Chamber of Secrets will not be opened again, and Slytherin’s own heir has made sure that the basilisk will not do any harm. Harry, Draco, you both have shown great bravery and loyalty. Loyalty not only to your school, but also to each other. Which is why you both will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and—let me see—yes, I think three hundred points apiece for Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

Harry’s ears went pink at the amount of points. “Now, I believe both of you would do well to visit the Hospital Wing. I am sure we are all anxious to see you both unharmed. Lucius, Narcissa, Sirius, you can accompany them if you wish.”

Sirius patted both their shoulders, and the boys stood, still holding hands. Mr. Malfoy helped Mrs. Malfoy up and Harry now noticed that his mother definitely gained weight around her stomach, though he did not point it out. They were near the door when Dumbledore stopped them. “Ah yes, one more thing… Happy Christmas,” he chuckled.

 

The three adults stayed with Harry and Draco throughout the rest of the night. Madam Pomfrey was astonished to see that the worst the boys suffered were a couple of bruises which they got from the man-sized pipe, but still demanded that they stay the night in the hospital wing just to make sure. Mrs. Malfoy waited until Madam Pomfrey was away before turning to Harry and Draco. “Harry…” she said carefully. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve went through with us. Lucius and I talked a lot while you were at Hogwarts, and we want to apologize for neglecting you.”

She looked at Mr. Malfoy, as did Harry and Draco. Mr. Malfoy took a breath and looked at Harry. “I apologize… it was wrong of me to punish you as I did during the summer,” he said. He offered his hand. Harry stared at it, as if thinking if he should shake it or not, before reaching and delicately shaking Mr. Malfoy’s hand. “Thank you, father,” he said in a small, tired voice. Mr. Malfoy nodded. Harry knew that this was the most intimate Mr. Malfoy was going to be with him, but it was more than enough.

“Good. Now that that is out of the way, Harry, Draco, we have more news,” Mr. Malfoy said promptly. “You are going to be older brothers.”

“During our… talks… things happened,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “That is why we wished to be alone during Christmas. So, we can figure out the best way to tell you.”

Harry and Draco just stared at Mrs. Malfoy. She was pregnant? How? They were going to be older brothers? Harry looked at Draco and they both mouthed ‘older brothers’ to each other. They were in a bit of a shock. Just hours ago, Harry learned that the man he was talking to, the diary that he poured his heart and soul into was his grandfather whom he promptly killed using the basilisk. Now they’re going to be older brothers?

Though he didn’t want to, though he wanted to be happy, Harry frowned. This was too much information for him. Draco stared at his parents. “When…”

“May,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Near the end of the school year.” Draco just nodded and looked back at Harry.

“Can we… can we sleep on this? We’re tired,” he said.

“Yes, yes of course,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “We’ll be here.”

Harry slipped out of his bed and went into Draco’s. The two boys curled around each other, falling asleep, both relieved that the year’s trouble was behind them. And so, the rest of their school year went on. The mandrakes aged and near the end of the school year Professor Sprout and Professor Snape were able to make a restorative draught that restored the victims to their normal state. The year seemed to blur for Harry after Christmas. He spent his free time with either his brother or his friends, he made sure to have several “dates” with Blaise where it was just the two of them roaming around the castle, and he naturally became buried in schoolwork.

In late May Mrs. Malfoy gave birth to a tiny baby girl who Mr. Malfoy named Violet Malfoy, and they sent dozens of pictures of Harry’s and Draco’s new baby sister during their last month of school. She was a pixie-looking baby with a full head of blond hair and silver eyes like her oldest brother.

Before Harry knew it, his second year at Hogwarts was done. He was back at Malfoy Manor and for the first time in a year he felt right at home. He was in his room, curled with a new book on snakes and their uses. Violet was sleeping in her new room next to their parent’s suite and Draco was in his room reading about Dragon handling and doing something with a secret gift that Charlie Weasley gave him.

The window to Harry’s room was open, a cool breeze blowing in, when the pre-teen felt a sudden chill take over his room. _“I’ve heard what happened. You are developing wonderfully.”_

A wisp of a man floated in his room. Barely a man and barely alive. Harry closed his book and sighed. _“Why are you here?”_ he hissed at the wisp.

_“To see your development, Harry. You are following the path I wanted your father to go.”_

_“You didn’t even know my dad existed. Do not talk about him. He is more of a man that you’ll ever be.”_

_“And you are the heir that he will never be.”_

Harry stared at the wisp. He stood from his bed, glaring slightly. _“Do not talk—”_

_“He ran away from what he is. But you… you’re accepting your role… your purpose.”_

_My role?”_ Harry laughed. _“Grandfather, I am the Heir of Slytherin. I have done the right thing, the good thing. The basilisk will not hurt anyone again.”_

_“Perhaps, but I am still here. And as long as I am alive, grandson, I will go after you.”_ The wisp of Lord Voldemort said.

_“I hate you. I hate you more now than ever,”_ Harry said. _“If you’re here to kill me, do it, otherwise I do not want to hear you.”_

Lord Voldemort chuckled. _“Kill you? Why would I want to kill Slytherin’s Heir? You’ve took the mantle when your father did not. You are more useful to me than your father. I am not here to kill you, Harry. Instead, I am here to propose a partnership with you. Join me, my loving grandson, and together we shall make a world safe enough for your little sister to thrive. …Join me, Harry Malfoy. Join your true family…”_

**END**


	12. Chapter 12

An informal chapter to say that, yes, there will be a third and FINAL BOOK. You guys have given me the confidence (whittled me down) to make the sequel. Though, I must say that it is only slightly rude that many of you just a) assumed that there was going to be a sequel and b) just left comments saying "Sequel when?" or "Sequel Plz." Not calling out names, but y'all know who you are. 


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